


It's Just Politics in Pegasus

by SpaceCadetDHD



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Acts of War, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexual Character, Asexual John Sheppard, BAMF Rodney McKay, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Chains, F/M, Genii (Stargate), Genius Rodney McKay, Hostage Situations, Hurt John Sheppard, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Isolation, John Sheppard Needs a Hug, John Sheppard Whump, Light Deprivation, M/M, McShep sees a shrink, Missing Team, Oblivious Rodney McKay, POV John Sheppard, POV Rodney McKay, POV Teyla Emmagan, Panic Attacks, Protective John Sheppard, Protective Rodney McKay, Protective Team, References to Nausea, References to Torture, Rodney McKay Whump, Slow Burn, Smart John Sheppard, Starvation, Tags Are Hard, Team as Family, There was only one bed!, Unreliable Narrator, Waterboarding, Whipping, Whump, drugged john sheppard, forehead kisses and cuddles and random handjobs, genii shenanigans, infirmary visits, it takes a whole damn city sometimes, john sheppard sees a shrink, mission was a trap, neurodivergent character, random adorkableness, references to involuntary medical care, sidehelpings of feels, so does McKay, trauma & recovery, two idiots in a box
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 24
Words: 137,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceCadetDHD/pseuds/SpaceCadetDHD
Summary: They sat in quiet and John held on to Rodney's wrist again. Rodney kept watch as John closed his eyes, that fake-sleep under the long lashes, and he stayed long after John wanted him gone, ignoring the order to leave that Sheppard had made twice. He slouched onto the edge of the bed, let John keep his hand even as he rested his head on his crossed arms. John watched him but allowed it."Just so we're clear," said Rodney, barely a whisper. "I'm working for the Genii until we get the ‘gate fixed? That's... that's what I'm doing."John's eyes closed then and his hands squeezed around Rodney’s."Please?" he whispered back, finally. Rodney clasped his loose hand over John's and he stood up, leaned over the edge of the bed to rest his forehead to John's.--When Kolya captures Sheppard and McKay, the pressure is on Rodney to keep John alive long enough for their team back on Atlantis to track them down. They find themselves keeping each other sane as they navigate the hazards of scattered allies and a broken truce between the Genii and Atlantis.
Relationships: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard, Ronon Dex/Teyla Emmagan
Comments: 28
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Superhuge thanks to pebbles1971 and HilaryParker54 for ~~tolerating me constantly asking for help I mean~~ helping out with beta on this!! (The ending would have been quite painful without pebbles and now instead it's fluffy and fun, believe it or not.) Also #Beta-said-to-issue-a-tissue-warning cuz the beginning half got hilaryparker a couple times. 
> 
> This fic is kinda dark but the rating is based mostly on the last few hundred words of chapter 2, so you can read this fic without reading that one part. The section is clearly marked and easily avoided, but the references show up in the aftermath throughout the fic. Check chapter end notes for TW for the chapters. Everything is tagged for a reason but it's not graphic. It is angsty tho.
> 
> Tl;dr - Pay Attention to the tags. I think i might have over-tagged, but if i missed something PLEASE let me know and i will get the tag updated ASAP.
> 
> * * *

The stargate was blown to shit. But the DHD was fine. That was nice.

"What- how-" 

" _How's_ not gonna help us right now, McKay," came the sharp reply from Lt. Col. Sheppard. He grabbed McKay by the vest and pulled him back from the clearing, retreating into the trees with a yelled order to "Fall back!"

He knew Ronon and Teyla would follow, not even a matter of trust, but _knew_. Rodney was another story, but that was how their team worked. Three of them were required to keep the idiot genius in check. Sheppard could practically hear inside Rodney’s head just then, knowing the man well enough to predict the scientist was more hung up on the destroyed stargate than he was on the fact that they were being shot at. He was probably trying to figure out how to repair it - _it's missing the whole center panel at the top, Rodney!_ \- rather than pay attention to the fact that John had a fist in his shirt to drag him down behind a fallen tree trunk roughly the size of a rhino. Plenty of cover. But not great concealment. And Sheppard couldn't see the other half of his team _or_ the Bad Guys. 

"Dex!" Sheppard shouted. They could play Marco Polo if they had to, it wasn’t like the other guys didn't have their locations pinned down. 

There was no response.

"Teyla!" John tried, Rodney seconds behind him as he seemed to catch on to the situation. He tried to poke his head up like a suicidal meerkat and John dragged him down, hard, and hissed at him to stay down. There was no answer from their team. Just gunfire and bullets thudding into the tree behind them.

They had to move. 

Sheppard knew Teyla and Ronon could take care of themselves. He had to get Rodney to ground before he got his head shot off or twisted an ankle or whatever new creative inconvenience the cosmos wanted to throw at him. He caught him by the vest and gave a tug, just enough to make it clear he was to follow. Rodney nodded and moved when John did, the pair of them dodging around the massive dead tree to another area, dropping down into a gully and moving back away from the stargate. That's where the gunfire was centered and it was obviously no use to them now. 

The noise stopped, rather suddenly, on an angry shout. Sheppard tripped and caught the edge of the shallow gully they were following, stuck worrying when the voice sounded so close to Ronon's. 

"Was that-" Rodney asked. Sheppard just shook his head as he regained his balance and started moving forward again.

"We'll go back when it's safe," Sheppard said. It was the only meetup spot the team had set on this trip; they would have to. Sheppard wanted to go back now, but it was too hot. Rodney was going to be their only way off the planet at this point, and he had to get the man stashed away somewhere safe before he could go back for the others. They knew how to handle themselves. Rodney knew how to point-and-shoot and get himself in trouble. 

"Colonel!" Rodney sounded like he was shouting and John turned around to find out what was wrong. And then he felt the dart sticking out of his shoulder, just between his tac vest and his shirt collar. Rodney was on it already, reaching out to pull it away. John nodded his thanks and shoved Rodney ahead of him. They didn't know what it was and maybe he got it in time. 

"Run!" he hissed. Rodney did and John followed. But his vision swam after ten yards and he fell face first into mud and ivy.

* * *

The light in the room was bright, obnoxiously so, but it was yellow. And it buzzed. And it made Rodney’s skin crawl. He sat in a lab of some sort, afraid to touch anything, because it had to be a trap. There were paper notebooks everywhere and rudimentary computers, some sixty years out of date, though he saw no sign of their processors. Maybe they were wired to another room. Or maybe they had a newer form of technology despite the archaic interface. Rodney wanted to investigate but he knew better. 

So for a while he sat on a sofa bench along the one wall of the room that wasn't occupied by computers, microscopes, and other tech he didn't recognize. Keeping his back to the wall helped keep them from creeping in on him. There was a bank of windows on one wall but they were all sealed, mounted with metal brackets, and looked out on a shadowy warehouse too dark to see anything. Useless. It was all very Genii but it was all very unknown, too. He had seen Kolya. They weren't at the Genii planet location Teyla had known, but it was definitely a Genii outpost. And there was the matter of the broken stargate; specifically, who had blasted the ring apart? It didn't make sense why Kolya would destroy his own way back to his people just to trap AR-1. And the question of where the rest of AR-1 was being kept weighed heavy. 

They had left his pack with him, and John's, but the only things useful in either were the MREs and water, and the basic travel toiletries were probably going to come in handy before long. He was locked up by the Genii, but at least he had a toothbrush. And he wasn't stuck in a cave, like the last time AR-1 was ambushed, with Aiden Ford poisoning the team to prove a point. Just Genii. Which meant _radiation_. And who the hell knew what they wanted this time. But he could still brush his teeth.

Rodney paced because he felt anxious despite being hungry, hating being hungry. He had to break into his pack for a PowerBar but it just made him angry at the weakness. _Whatever_. He couldn’t afford to get sick. He couldn’t help his team if he got sick.

Rodney startled when the door finally opened. He stood by the sofa, staring out the window until the metal door across the room clanked and allowed two soldiers inside. The door locked behind them again and one of the guards stationed himself in front of it. The other moved to one of the computer consoles in front of the window and started flipping switches and typing commands. Neither of them did more than look Rodney’s direction. Curiosity caught, Rodney moved to the young woman at the computer to snoop over her shoulder at a safe enough distance. They had apparently written him off as harmless because she shifted enough to allow him to see the computer.

"What is this?" Rodney asked. The soldier didn't reply. A few more keystrokes and one monitor showed a snowy, lined live-feed video of the room they were in. Rodney looked around to find a camera and found the bulky brown box just outside the window to the warehouse, off in an upper corner and angled to catch most of the room from what Rodney could see on the screen. _Great_.

Another monitor lit up with a grainy video feed of another room and Rodney squinted at the picture coming into focus. It looked like an open space, with barred cells along the back wall, with someone sitting in a high-backed metal chair a few feet in front of the camera. There was a heavy desk in front of him, paperwork and a desk blotter to suggest it was actually used periodically, and it looked like the camera was mounted just behind the desk. It was a close angle, and it auto-focused on John Sheppard after a moment. 

Shit.

His face was more colorful than it had been the last time Rodney had seen him. His tac vest was gone. And he looked groggy, but whether that was from the beating or from the dart, Rodney had no way to know. He backed away from the soldier out of self-preservation and moved to sit on the bench. He didn't want to know.

"Dr. McKay, over here, please," said the lady soldier. Rodney blinked at her. John looked like _that_ and she was saying _please_ to him? It was disorienting. She pointed his attention to the screen as someone walked up to the Lt. Colonel and Rodney stayed where he was to stay away. 

"Dr. McKay, may we have your undivided attention for a moment," said a voice from the speakers. And it sounded familiar enough that Rodney did stand up and move to better see the screens. He noticed it moved him closer to the camera on his end and he stood close enough now to see his own face on the room feed. Sheppard seemed to physically relax in the chair, sat forward to lean his arms on his knees as though he was looking at something to the side behind the camera he faced. His hands were shackled with thick metal cuffs and a short chain, but they were at least in front and he could move. Rodney took those to be good signs.

"Hey McKay," said Sheppard, sounding surprisingly chipper.

The man standing beside John caught him by the shoulder to make him sit back in the chair again. Sheppard cast a smug glare up at Acastus Kolya. The Commander pretended not to notice.

"Dr. McKay, thank you for joining us," Kolya said. He also seemed in a good mood. In Rodney's experience, that was usually a bad sign.

"I had nothing better to do, right?" Rodney replied, wary. Sheppard smiled at the camera until Kolya caught him at it and squeezed his shoulder. John went straight-faced but he still cringed slightly toward the correction. 

"As it happens, we've got plenty for you to do, Doctor. Starting with correcting the specific errors you have previously identified with the Genii nuclear program, and eventually working toward the repair of this planet's stargate," said Kolya. "Which, I'm sure you'll realize, is in your personal best interests."

"I'm okay with working on the stargate," Sheppard offered up. "That's a great idea."

Rodney started to nod his agreement, but Kolya smiled again. "That, I assure you, is on the list. But it is _last_ on the list. You will work your way to it."

"If the Genii want help, they can ask for it," Rodney said, angry but trying to be careful. "Politely, like allies-"

Kolya brought his fist up and back suddenly to club Sheppard’s jaw with it. John dodged to the side belatedly, brought his hands up to guard against the follow up. But Kolya stood still, hands clasped in front of him as John recovered. 

"What the hell was that?" Rodney demanded, startled by the unexpected blow. "Atlantis is at a truce with the Genii! You can't-"

Kolya grabbed Sheppard by the shoulder again and dragged him to his feet. There had to be something wrong with John's shoulder because he was moving away from the touch more than just annoyance at the handling. Kolya didn't seem to mind. " _This_ says I can. I promise you, Dr. McKay, if you cooperate then the Lt. Colonel will come to no more harm. And if you refuse, if you argue and whine and work an angle? Question an order? I promise you I will not _kill_ him."

Sheppard rolled his eyes at the Commander's dramatic promise, but it took effort. "Situation normal, McKay," the Lt. Colonel said. "You know the policy."

"Yeah, it's all fucked up. Sheppard, shut it," Rodney snapped at him. He wasn't helping.

"Rodney-"

"I remind you, this is not your command, Sheppard," said Kolya.

"And it's not _yours_ either," said Rodney, angry and glaring at the grainy image of Kolya on the screen. He pointed uselessly at the screen like he could shake a finger in the man's face. "You want something from _me_ , here. Not from Atlantis. You want _my_ help with your projects. _This_ is not how that works."

Kolya and Sheppard both stared at the screen on their end, and Sheppard's boneless effort to avoid further injury to his shoulder stiffened, like he had to brace for a blow.

"He means that," Sheppard said, quiet. "He's saying his brain doesn't work when he's... scared."

"Yes," replied Kolya with a disturbing calm. "I've seen. That's what _you're_ for."

Before Sheppard seemed to fully realize what was happening, Kolya shoved him hard into the desk that sat between them and the camera. John tried to catch himself and papers went flying. Another soldier showed up in the corner and caught Sheppard’s hands by the short shackles and he was stretched and pinned over the desktop.

There was a grunted _ohshit_ and Rodney jumped back as Kolya took something to John's back that tore stripes right through the black shirt. It looked silver, like wire, some kind of metal stick or a pointer or something similar, but Rodney couldn’t tell through the feed. He saw blood, though, and he saw the tightly cringed pain on John's face as the Colonel clenched his jaw and bit his lip until there was blood there too. Rodney backed off another step, tucked his face into his shoulder rather than watch the screen. He missed count of how many stripes Sheppard ended up with for it. 

"Okay! Stop!" Rodney finally blurted out. He felt nauseous. Kolya passed the silver weapon off to one of his soldiers and moved to stand behind John again, the soldier jerking on their hold on John's shackles when he tried to move. Kolya leaned over Sheppard enough to shove his shirt up off his back, and John did shout at him for that, because he wasn't careful about the stinging injuries as he went. Kolya just kneed him in the back of the thigh and caught him by the belt to pin him down, the same way he had by the shoulder. Red lines angled across his back in diamond-shaped, messy Xs that were already bleeding badly.

"Dr. McKay, _this_ is how this _works_. You apply your supposed genius to the projects you are assigned. Without argument, protest, or sabotage. And John Sheppard's blood remains on the inside of his body, as I'm sure he would appreciate," Kolya said. Again, unnaturally calm and comfortable, leaned on John's hip just close enough to some of the stripes that the Colonel was having trouble breathing.

"I said _okay_! Let him up!" Rodney said. On the screen, Kolya raised an eyebrow and dug heavier into John's side. "Oh come on! I can't _talk-_ What, _Please_ , then? Please let him up?"

Kolya smiled as Sheppard made a pained noise. The man had gone still on the table, aside from the ragged rise and fall of his ribs that Rodney could see clearly since he was so close to the camera over the desk. Rodney wanted to rage, but he couldn't. He was suddenly afraid to talk at all. The blood from the cuts was dripping and pooling onto the desktop without John's shirt to soak it up and Rodney paced further from the screen a few steps, arms crossed to shore himself up. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't watch this happen. But he couldn't put Atlantis at risk by working for the Genii. 

The stargate was closed, maybe permanently, so Atlantis was safe. Sheppard wasn't. Rodney wasn’t, either, but he was safer than John. So he stayed quiet, tried to stand still, and he waited, afraid to talk. 

It seemed to be the right answer and Kolya caught John by the back of his shirt collar to pull him off the desk. Sheppard swayed on his feet and caught the front of the desk with his hands to keep himself away from the sharp edge. 

"Look, can I see him?" Rodney asked, putting all of his effort into swallowing his anger. "I don't know this isn't just another trick. He should be here. I'll need help."

"You will need scientists, not soldiers," said Kolya. Rodney scoffed.

"Shows what you know. I'd put that man's brain against any five of your scientists," said Rodney. He bit nervously at his thumb. "I'll need someone to check my math. That's his area."

"Rodney..." Sheppard said, anxious and in pain. Rodney waved his hands. He could feel the panic setting in.

"I made the request! Okay? If I can't talk, things are gonna take ten times longer, at least," he said. "I'm not arguing. Just... putting that out there."

Kolya was staring at Sheppard, reassessing the hostage apparently. Then he looked to the camera, at Rodney. "No. You manage without him today. And check in tomorrow."

"If he's here with me, there's no slow-down for a check-in," Rodney pointed out. "Look, I'm about five seconds from a meltdown and he's the only one I know who can talk me through them. _Now_ would kind of be better. I might not be breathing in ten minutes."

"What’s he talking about?" Kolya asked Sheppard. John squinted and closed his eyes like he was trying to focus. 

"Uh, panic attacks. They can shut him down if he doesn't have somebody to talk him through it," said John, apparently resigned to the truth as he reigned in his own anger at the man still touching him.

"Huh," said Kolya. He stepped aside enough to pull Sheppard back to the metal chair and shove him into it. "I guess we'll find out what that looks like then."

Sheppard crumpled forward over his knees when Kolya pushed him in the chair, only for Kolya to pull him back to sitting up. "Tell him to get to work, Sheppard."

John was laughing for some reason, and squirming to get his back away from the chair. It didn't work well with Kolya hanging on to his shoulder. He finally looked up at the camera, the pained, lopsided, smug smile on his face. "Get to work, Sheppard."

Rodney was confused by the good humor, but he had to bite his tongue to keep from a small, tiny, confused, enough-to-get-John-killed huff of a laugh escaping. Kolya shoved John's chair backwards and he disappeared behind the desk as he fell to the floor and rolled to his side. It was maybe a rough landing but it was probably where John wanted to go anyway.

Kolya looked to the camera again. "What you achieve today determines what happens tomorrow, Dr. McKay. You'll find the project list in your new office. I suggest you start by looking for that."

There was no more audio after that, though the video stayed on. The two soldiers behind Rodney left the room, the door clanking loudly behind them. Rodney didn't move, just stared at the screen. Kolya had gone away and more soldiers had half carried Sheppard into one of the cells at the back of the room. They just left him there. They did nothing to care for his back. 

Rodney watched, worried, as Sheppard tugged his shirt off and tossed it. He couldn't lift his arms very well from the pull on his bleeding back, so it didn't get far. Then the Lt. Colonel curled up on his side in the middle of the cell floor, and carefully hugged his knees. He probably thought he was alone. 

Rodney had to work at turning away. He was supposed to be doing something that _wasn't_ staring at a screen to make sure John was still breathing. He had to find a list. And he had to make sense of what was apparently his office. At least until he could get John out of the cells. He had to figure out how to break out of locked offices and be ready to run when he got John back.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> TW: canon-typical violence, whipping


	2. Chapter 2

They would figure it out when they couldn't dial the 'gate. Then they would send a team. Maybe drag the Daedalus in. They’d find Ronon and Teyla. Then it was just a matter of time. Atlantis would look for them. And find them. They just had to hang in for a week, two tops to account for the search, since planets could get big. Sheppard hurt like hell, but he didn't have a bullet in his brain. They could make it two weeks if they had to.

He had no idea how Kolya had blasted the 'gate that hard. Maybe he hadn't blown it up. Maybe they had just taken it apart somehow. That had to be possible, right? It wasn't a solid piece if it turned, all those moving parts... John was suddenly mentally kicking himself for not having waited to investigate the damage better. Sure, there had been gunfire, _at the time_ , but he needed the information _now._

Instead, now he sat against the bars of a jail cell, half naked, because his back was shredded and on fire and somehow _still_ cold. His head was clearing finally from whatever was in the dart that had knocked him out but it hurt like everything else. John stared at a grainy, far away screen across the room that showed Rodney moving around a small room that looked somehow like a lab. There was no telling where Rodney was, other than somewhere on the planet. Only _probably_ in the same compound somewhere, because the Genii were good at ferreting away their bases, and he could be anywhere within a few hours' travel distance. The last Genii bunker had been shielded for RF so this one probably was, too. That limited the range on the scrolly, warbled video feed. At least the ‘gate was dead so they were still stuck on the same planet.

From the looks of him, the way he moved, Rodney apparently hadn't slept, and that was going to be a problem. John had passed out a few times when he lay on the floor, letting his blood drip toward the drain, and who knew how much blood he had lost for it, but his back pulled like it had dried up and he was eventually able to move again. Everything hurt, just _pain_ radiating everywhere.

His shoulder was killing him but he couldn't do anything about that. It had been smashed hard when they were throwing him around or something, but John didn't know what had happened to it, he hadn't been awake for the worst of it, and the damage was done long before they got Rodney all worried. Knives had definitely been involved and stabbing turned out to hurt a goddamn lot. There was blood and pain, on top of a bright bruise and some swelling, and John had to try not to think about it. He couldn't do anything about it except panic and that was a non-option. So he tiredly watched Rodney try to figure out whatever task he had been given.

Based on the way Rodney slumped over the desk, head in his hands, he wasn't doing so great with it.

"Rodney!" John croaked out, testing to see if the mics were still on since he knew the camera was. Rodney didn't look up. John figured that meant no sound. Gritting his teeth, John caught the bars for balance and pushed himself to his feet. He stood leaned against the big gate, making himself as comfortable as he could without pulling his back, and standing upright to show his friend he was still okay. He was cold, definitely beat up, but he was okay. Probably better off than Rodney just then, too.

It wasn't very long before Rodney saw him and moved over to the monitor, closer to the camera on his end. He started messing with controls on what passed for a keyboard and it didn't seem to do much. The cameras stayed on, the pictures on the screens didn't even flicker. John was pretty certain that touching the torture device wasn't on Rodney’s officially approved list of things to do but he didn't point that out.

"Colonel?" Hearing Rodney’s voice was a surprise and John startled. 

"McKay?" John replied, experimentally assuming the genius had somehow gotten both ends working. 

"Damn. I can't hear you," Rodney said a moment later. John figured it would go something like that. The Genii were still too analog. Too many switches and dials. And those were all across the room from John.

"Look, we've got a problem," said Rodney quickly. He sounded tired. And panicked. Fixing the computer for sound hadn't helped. John set his chin to the bars and listened.

"The first thing on the list? Disable the transmitters. _Our_ transmitters. I... I can't do that," said Rodney. "I mean, Carson could. But he would have to _remove_ them. All I can do is jam their signal, which is entirely redundant down here I'm sure, but I can't disable them entirely. That's not how they work."

How the _fuck_ did Kolya know about the transmitters in the first place?

"I don't know what to do," Rodney went on. "I can't tell them it's not even possible. It will just... I mean... I just can't."

John nodded his understanding. Telling Kolya the truth would just mean a whole new level of pain for John. Distracting himself from the inevitable, John changed gears. He pressed into the bars enough that he hoped he was more easily visible and tried to pantomime an order for Rodney to get some sleep. He did okay, considering the shackles on his wrists limited movement more than the bars. And Rodney immediately tried to argue, so he got the hint. All John could do was glare at the camera and hope it got the message across.

John won by virtue of the fact that Rodney was left to argue with himself, since he couldn't have heard John anyway. Logic usually eventually won out whenever John managed to make Rodney argue with himself. And the argument, such as it was, wound down to petty insults against John’s parentage, (which never worked anyway,) and his intelligence, (which John wasn't bothered by since the comparison point was always _Rodney’s_ brain,) and Rodney reluctantly gave up and went to lay down on the sofa-thing across the room.

John stayed against the gate, taking deep breaths, trying to figure out how to get ahead of this problem. He would say something to Kolya about it. Exactly what, he hadn't gotten sorted yet, but then it wasn't on Rodney when he got his ass kicked. 

* * *

\----- ~~○○••!!! **TW starts here** !!! ••○○~~-----

The beating showed up earlier than John had expected it would. He didn't have his watch anymore, so his sense of time was a little messed up, but Kolya walked in maybe fifteen minutes later. John reported the scientist's findings and tried to use small words, but Kolya was only more insulted. Rodney was still passed out, which was good, because the second Kolya got his hands on John, he went for the back, and John let out a shout of pain. He was shoved out of the cell, started to retreat to the chair, but it was kicked away from him. 

"Look, it's not our fault, okay?" Sheppard tried, focusing very hard on being calm as he was manhandled to the desk. "The chip is in the body. It can't be programmed without taking it out. And we don't know _where_ the chips _are_..."

He was stretched out along the desk again, but there was no one there to hold his wrists. They didn't have to, because Kolya had a hand square in the middle of John's back, over the bloody criss crossed stripes, and it stung and radiated pain out to every limb. He started bleeding again, he could feel it, and John tried to go still, not rise to the bait so it could stop sooner. They were stuck in a waiting game, no matter what they did, and had to stay alive to get rescued. That meant no breaking Rodney. And no pushing his own endurance when he was staring down the barrel of a torture-session _marathon_ , not a sprint.

"He can build a jammer!" John managed to get out. His jaw hurt from trying not to yell. The hand at his ribs slid to his lower back, a painful drag to less painful territory and John pulled in a relieved breath. He sagged against the desk under him, something like relief as things started to maybe look up; he had a low bar at the moment. Kolya's hand was wet with John's blood as he gripped his hip, his knee in the back of John's thigh to help keep him pinned as he leaned over the desk.

"What else did he report to you?" Kolya asked. He kept him bent over the length of the heavy desk and Sheppard started to panic. His socked feet slipped on the cement floor as he pushed up to move to the shorter side of the desk and stand, but Kolya moved to the side a step to meet his efforts and dragged a fist across his jaw, stunning him for long enough, yanking him against the desk. The man had hands on his shredded back again a moment later, leaned over the desk with him again to add weight, and John ground his jaw and tried to see through the white-gray pain.

John caught sight of the video feed screens and realized everything was being broadcast. Rodney still slept on the couch. _God_ , he needed to stay that way. Breathing ragged, John forced himself to sag against the tabletop. He could fight, drag it out, hurt himself, and hurt Rodney, or he could let Kolya have the round.

John quickly shook his head. "He hasn't slept. I told him to sleep."

It took him a beat to realize one of the Commander's hands had slid low, wet and bloody skin moving against his hip and then lower, over his ass. They had taken his belt when they took his shoes, long before they dumped him bloody in the center of the cell hours earlier. His pants tugged against the desk but gave easy and Sheppard renewed his efforts at getting away from the wrong end of the table, squirming to the side to move and try to stand upright. Kolya stuck a hand in the middle of his back and dug fingers into the shredded skin and flayed muscle.

"You are not who gives the orders," the Commander growled. He suddenly disappeared from behind John again, and it was probably bad, but John sucked in a breath as the pain eased up. The cuts were deep, his back was on fire, and it radiated down his arms and legs and _god_ did the pull of it hurt his chest. There was a clanking, clattering noise and the desk rattled under him. John started to push himself up, alarmed. Kolya was going after chains. 

* * *

Minutes felt like an hour before John's face was streaked red from Kolya's bloody hands touching him, and tears, and sweat. John saw the mess he felt on his face with a glimpse at the screens on the wall and wanted a shower to get everything off of him because it was adding to the need to throw up when he had nothing to throw up. He started gagging, shoving back enough to get up on his elbows and not choke. 

His attention caught on the second of the two screens along the wall behind the camera. Rodney stood in front of the monitors in his lab, arms wrapped around himself, looking like he was crying alongside anger and shock, and John buried his face in his shoulder and willed it all to stop. He shook from pain, had to get off his arms, and he lay still as Kolya finished. Kolya's hands stayed at John's hips as he leaned against him, taunting.

"Build the jamming device, Dr. McKay," Kolya ordered, and John wanted to cry as he realized the sound had been on. He was the one who had woken up Rodney. For _that_. Kolya shoved at John's hips one last time, pushing him onto the support of the desk again, off of his trembling legs, and slapped his ass before leaving him there. To bleed and make a mess and hurt. He made it a point to show John he shut off the microphones before he left the room. 

Rodney’s broken voice still came through on the speakers, though, with apologies and worries and there was nothing John could do to make him shut up. The shackles at his wrists were still chained to the desk and he used the tether to help pull himself up on the table. Rolled onto the shoulder that didn't hurt, curled his knees carefully up, and just lay there. His brain wasn't working like his body wasn't working. He was hot and cold and hurt and... leaking everywhere. So he stared at the screens and watched Rodney try to figure out how to function, locked in the lab, with nothing on hand to actually build a jamming device from. The scientist ended up on the floor in a ball over his knees, rocking slightly. John passed out at some point, unable to do anything else.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> TW: torture, including referenced rape. Skip to 3 to get back to the story.


	3. Chapter 3

Rodney didn't see when John disappeared. 

He had been through the entire room over the last thirty-two hours, categorized everything in ways that made sense, even figured out how to stick the to-do list - a wish-list for intergalactic domination that was half of it fiction and the other half rudimentary - to the windows where he could see them. He was set up, he could work, but if the list was to be approached in order, Rodney was stuck. He just couldn't make a simple tracking chip perform any different than it was designed. 

And then John eventually told him to sleep, so he did. And he needed it. But he didn't even get a half an hour. And he wasn't sure he could sleep ever again if sleep got Sheppard... hurt. They were human, damn it. They needed sleep. But after waking up to John’s swearing, Rodney worked himself into a fear of sleep. He curled over his knees and tried to figure out how to stay awake, how to get the grainy images from the screen out of his brain, how to block the memory of John's voice, and the pain he heard there. The silence after didn't help. 

Rodney didn't know how long he sat curled up, but he eventually slumped over and passed out. The buzzing lights carried on overhead and his dreams were nightmares that he got stuck in. Knives and blood and John's voice and a broken stargate. When he startled awake, he didn't know how long he had been out. Everything felt like it still stuck to him. But he saw clearly on the screen that John was gone. The desk was a bloody mess. The cells were empty, aside from the blood stain John had left there, too.

Then set in thirty seconds of hard panic that knotted in his chest. Was John still alive? He had lost a lot of blood, a lot of it still pooled on the table in front of the camera in congealed streaks. It had been days since Rodney had seen him eat anything, and Rodney was only surviving on PowerBars and an MRE a day. Two days? Three? He wasn't sure how long he had been there because he hadn't been paying attention to his watch and he had no daylight. Just a lab with a warehouse view and a water closet. And that was more than John had been allowed. 

Rodney ran to the bathroom to be sick when he remembered the last of what he had seen on the screen of John. 

The only reassurance he had that John was still alive was the promise that Kolya made not to kill him. If he would turn on the sound to make McKay listen to the man suffer through being raped, there was no torture Kolya would put John through outside of that room that he wouldn't make sure Rodney was present for somehow. That was the game, wasn't it? Rodney had to know what was going on in order to get the point across. 

Rodney had the point well in mind, but he wasn't equipped to abide by it, either mentally or scientifically speaking either one, because his _lab_ consisted of absolutely nothing useful. No tools. Only computers that had only barely graduated from punch-cards. A few archaic instruction manuals and some simple observation tools, but nothing to observe. And paper and pencils, because he was living in the Dark Ages.

That left the rationalization that John wasn't on the screen because he was finally receiving medical care. Or what the Genii considered medical care, at least, which was better than nothing. _Okay_. Positive reinforcement said that Rodney should have something for trade. Kolya called the shots, _fine_ , but Rodney had something to control with. He could work when John was safe. If John was receiving care, Rodney would work. 

And when the door opened next, Rodney had a mostly-empty notebook filled only with the design of the jammer he had been ordered to make, and a neatly printed list of necessary materials and tools. He jumped out of his chair and stood beside the center island he had been working at. He had his back to the screens that way, didn't have to see the bloody mess of the desk. He checked every so often to be sure John wasn't there, but he had to keep his back to it otherwise. 

The same soldiers Rodney had seen before walked in and then Kolya. The man was the same as he had been when Rodney had last seen him in that damn hole in the ground with the ZPM he hadn't been allowed to keep. It was bad enough reminding himself of the other painful things the Commander had done to Atlantis. But now he saw the neutral face and remembered all too clearly what Kolya had done to John. Rodney felt rage and fear simultaneously and didn't know what to do with it, so he kept the large island desk between them.

"There's your jamming device," he said, tucking the list in the bound notebook and sliding them across the table at him. "Where's Sheppard?"

"In the infirmary," said Kolya, a pleased smile on his face as he picked up the notebook. He looked through a few pages, actually reading them. He kept the list and put the notebook down, seemingly satisfied. 

"Good work, Dr. McKay. I would like you to set a schedule for yourself. Eight hours sleep. Mandatory. And when your food supplies run out, regular meals will be arranged for you both. If you have any dietary concerns, I'll need a list of those as well," said Kolya. 

Rodney got stuck on the _'when'_ and spluttered. "Wait... I have _days_ of food left. What about Colonel-"

"He will be in the infirmary for _days_ and receive his meals there as the doctors see fit," said Kolya. The rage worked its way over the fear and Rodney felt his hands pull into fists, had to fight to keep his feet from moving. He would only get himself killed or get John taken from the infirmary. He forced his hands into his pockets and nodded, looking to the notebook and making himself stay quiet. Kolya watched him, the pleased expression going smug.

"And I'm sure you wish to see him," the Commander said. Rodney looked up at him sharply.

"Yes."

"Then understand something, Dr. McKay," said Kolya. The man took a few steps closer, rounding the island and resting a hip against it as he stood across from the monitors. He crossed his arms and despite being no taller that Rodney seemed an imposing presence. But that probably had more to do with the hurt he had inflicted on Rodney’s friend than actual stature. 

"Sheppard has no rank here. You are not on Atlantis. You are here. He is only here because we have limited options to coerce your cooperation with our goals. And thanks to Sheppard, we have a much stricter timeline than we would have had originally. This is how we get around that. The man is a whipping boy for a wayward prince. Your compliance determines his value. His value determines his care. You do not take orders from him," said Kolya. 

"I don't take orders from him anyway," said Rodney, chin up. "I'm a civilian. Chief Science Officer."

Kolya gave a tolerant grin but wasn’t put off from it. "Do you understand what I am saying to you?" 

Rodney understood and nodded, crossing his arms uncomfortably. 

"What if he says something I was planning to do anyway?" he asked, the anger slipping out. "Is what happened before going to happen again?"

Kolya smiled at him again. "Unless he learns."

It was chilling and Rodney had to fight the urge to go be ill. "I don’t want to see it."

"Then stay busy, Doctor."

Rodney bit his tongue on pointing out how much of the list he was supposed to _stay busy_ on was just nonsense and science fiction pipedreams. He wanted to see John, not argue with the psychopath. He looked down at the notebook, out of reach, and reminded himself to fight one front at a time before they all attacked at once.

Kolya stood up and stepped aside, waving Rodney toward the door. "He's awake. I trust you'll behave yourself for a visit."

Rodney didn't have an easy retreat and edged by, jumping when Kolya caught his arm to forcefully escort him. Fear swamped right back and Rodney stepped fast to put distance between them again, but Kolya chuckled and tugged harder on his elbow to check the behavior. It wasn’t as much of a problem in the hallway outside the room, the man standing at his shoulder instead of behind him. But Rodney was all too aware he was outnumbered and Kolya liked to illustrate his messages.

He might have said Rodney was safe, but that didn't mean the man was trustworthy.

The infirmary was exactly as drab as the rest of the compound. They were underground, Rodney knew, which said nothing good for their odds of being found any time soon. The jammer was a redundancy but Rodney wasn’t going to point that out when the first technological failure had gone over so violently. John was one patient out of three, but he was the only one in an isolation room and shackled to the bed platform. He curled on his side to face the door, his chest wrapped in bandages, stripes of blood snuck over the top layer, and a blanket over his lower half. He lay still, eyes mostly closed, but Rodney knew his friend wasn't asleep. 

He started toward John as soon as he was in the door but Kolya kept a tight grip on his elbow. "Sheppard."

John's eyes opened fast, showing a prompt response and ending the game of opossum he had been playing with the infirmary staff. He tensed and his eyes tracked from Kolya to Rodney, his hands going to fists where they rested near his face. He had an IV in his arm and his shoulder was a solid purple green. And there was anger in his eyes. Rodney went still, not sure what to do suddenly, and Kolya shoved him forward. John carefully moved to sit up and Rodney tried to wave him down.

"Alright, McKay?" John asked, voice quiet and rough. Neither of them had been talking to anybody but themselves much for at least twenty-four hours. 

"No," said Rodney, feeling shocky. He shook his head and tried again. "I mean, yes. I'm... fine."

John flashed him a shade of a smile. Rodney pulled a chair from against the wall and planted it in front of the side of the bed, his back to Kolya and the guard shadows.

"John?" he asked, not sure what to say. The man sat stiffly on one hip mostly, knee up to lean into under the security of the mockingly soft blanket, and his attention kept tracking to Kolya. Rodney looked back at the man over his shoulder, helpless, angry all the same. 

"Are you necessary right now?" Rodney asked, tone careful and quiet. "I would like to talk to my friend. Not your _whipping boy_ , for five minutes."

Kolya smiled broadly at that and Rodney felt his gut tighten and rebel, but it worked. Kolya kept the soldiers at the door but he left. Rodney reached out and caught Sheppard’s hand on the bed the moment the man was gone, not sure what he could say to apologize for the fact of the words that had already tumbled out of his mouth. John seemed to relax though, working a finger between Rodney’s to hold him in reach and ducking his head to touch Rodney’s like one of Teyla’s greetings. Rodney’s eyes started leaking, damn it, and he couldn't look up for a minute. And John's breath hitched painfully but he didn't move either.

"I got it," John whispered finally. "Just don't get hurt, Rodney. We'll get home."

"No, I don't want the-"

"Not our game," Sheppard cut in. "Guys with the guns pick the house rules."

“Right. Right. Lose battles, win wars.” Rodney nodded and tried to believe his own translation of John’s caution. He hesitated, before reluctantly admitting, "I wrote the plans for the jammer."

Sheppard sagged a little, but he kept his head to Rodney's. "Figured you'd get it done."

" _Not_ done. I didn't have anything to build it with," said Rodney. It wasn't exactly an apology, but equal parts complaint.

John made a noise that might have been a laugh. He lifted his head, set a barely missed kiss to Rodney's temple before easing back to carefully curl up as he had been before they walked in. Rodney didn't complain at the touch and let John keep the claim on his hand. 

"Don't stay," John said, quiet. "It'll throw you off. He'll do something."

Rodney tightened his fingers around John's. "I don't want to leave you alone."

"Safe here," John replied. 

"No cameras," Rodney agreed. "But not safe."

John swallowed hard and nodded. His eyes tracked over Rodney’s shoulder again. "Hey, at least we know it didn't make it back to Atlantis."

Rodney nodded. Then his stomach rebelled again and he had to stand up and find a sink. John cringed but didn't move. Rodney washed his face for the third time that day and dried his hands and stood there a moment longer, making sure he wasn't going to do that again. Then he returned to take his chair and John opened his hands, silently asking for Rodney’s back.

It wasn’t like they had ever held hands on their visits to the pier, or any of the other hundred things they did together in a week, but the things they did always involved John bumping shoulders, or touching his arm or his back or some form of physical contact. It was John's way, not Rodney’s, but it was important to Rodney and he missed it already. Even the shackles keeping John’s hands trapped so close together - red, angry skin at his wrists, Rodney noticed - were in the way. He latched on to his fingers as John wrapped a hand around Rodney’s wrist and kept their hands tucked close to his chest.

"Are you sick?" John asked. Rodney shook his head.

"No. It just happens since..." Rodney broke off and shrugged. "Panic attacks diverted to physical distress. Probably preferable to not being able to breathe in the lab."

John didn't say anything to that, just rubbed a thumb over the inside of Rodney’s wrist. 

"I really do need your help," Rodney said, almost laughing, annoyed at himself. "I can't stay focused unless I have somebody to yell at, apparently. There's no one to talk to."

"Three days," said John. "That's how long they told - before they'll clear me. Assuming I don't get sick."

"I can build the jammers in that," said Rodney. 

"Do what you've gotta," said John. "They can't hurt Atlantis from here."

"Not honestly worried about the city right now," replied Rodney and he met John's eyes. John pointed a finger at him but didn't let go of his hand, either.

"I'm not your job," he said.

"No, just my friend. And now the guy whose ass they kick when I piss them off and I'm afraid to _move_ half the time."

John stilled, like Rodney had called him out. A moment later he rubbed at Rodney’s wrist again, squeezed his hand, then let go. "You can't stay," he said again. 

"The one thing I do know is you can't tell me what to do," replied Rodney. Because he was a jerk and they both knew it. John's lips tugged up briefly but he just nodded. 

"It was an idea."

" _That's_ still my job," said Rodney. "I'd say you could have it, but we'll be here forever if we had to wait for a MENSA drop-out."

That got the grin and Rodney mirrored it back at him. They sat in quiet and John held on to Rodney's wrist again. Rodney kept watch as John closed his eyes, that fake-sleep under the long lashes. He stayed long after John wanted him gone, ignoring the order to leave that John had made twice. He slouched on the edge of the bed, let John keep his hand even as he rested his head on his crossed arms. John watched him but allowed it.

"Just so we're clear," said Rodney, barely a whisper. "I'm working for the Genii until we get the ‘gate fixed? That's... that's what I'm doing."

John's eyes closed then and his hands squeezed around Rodney’s. 

"Please?" he whispered back, finally. Rodney clasped his loose hand over John's and he stood up, leaned over the edge of the bed to rest his forehead to John's. 

"Get better," he said, quiet but normal voiced. He traded the careful kiss to the temple for possession of his hand back. John watched him under his lashes and curled a little tighter under the blanket. Rodney returned the chair to the wall where he had found it and presented himself to the guards at the door. He was surprised to see Kolya had actually left. Rodney didn't complain and all but led the way back to his lab. He had another list to draw up to make the room some kind of functional lab and had to figure out how to coach himself into negotiating for it without endangering John. Kolya was just waiting for the chance, a predator rather than a captor, and Rodney couldn’t stomach being a party to it.

* * *

John was good at compartmentalizing. He couldn’t even say it was training. He had always been that way. Different people, places, and things lived in different places in his brain, nice little boxes, like their own little apartments. And he left them there, visited as he needed to. If a memory overlapped with different people, the memory went in different boxes, different pieces, all nicely categorized so he could pull it up when he needed it. His psych instructor called it a mind palace but it wasn't anything that fancy. More like a chaotic post office with hundreds of boxes on the walls, maybe. He had assigned numbers to the doors and it got him through college.

And now John had something he couldn't categorize. It wasn't fully processing. Just this dark cloud of anger that had moved in and sat in a corner without going near the boxes John tried to shove it in. It was bigger than the box. He tried to divide it up, put it in the Kolya box and put it in the Genii box, but it didn't track. There were other pieces that had to be made and John didn't want to. He didn't want to remember that Rodney had been there. He didn't want to remember any of it at all, but certainly not that. 

Trying to sort his shit out in the infirmary didn’t help. At one point early on, the nurse surprised him, and John tried to punch the doctor, and that didn’t go over well. For any of them, really, because the doctor didn’t like him much after that, _and_ he ripped the stitches in his shoulder. All Sheppard had to make sense of was anger and pain and time on his hands. He couldn't, his head was fuzzy and buzzy and everything hurt. He hated it. Every part of the place. Every person in it.

The fact of it was that John had underestimated Kolya. He had tried to goad the man into pulling a trigger and instead... _instead_. There were a dozen things he had done wrong that got him put in the infirmary, starting with cooperation. He should have stuck to name, rank, and serial number. He could remember those when he was strung out on every other drug, he should have sobered up. This was what he got for going along with the bad guys' orders that he translate _Genius_ for them so they could get around McKay's attitude. 

What he had understood of it had seemed like a good idea at the time, seemed like it would keep them from giving Rodney a black eye and busted shoulder. And in that sense, mission accomplished. Rodney was safely working in a lab and not sitting in shackles in an infirmary bed. But Kolya had meant it when he said Sheppard was the whipping boy, the surrogate for the punishment they would hold over Rodney’s head. And John hadn't believed him, at the time. 

Following orders from someone not Kolya was apparently a top crime. Cardinal sin. And if John hadn't been there, Rodney would have been the one locked down to the table. John told himself Rodney wouldn't have been able to deal with it. Except John was pretty sure he wasn't dealing with it well, either. He shouldn't be okay with and _glad_ to be hiding in some alien infirmary that he hated. And Rodney got sick just by looking at him now, so that was a whole 'nuther layer to the _Not Okay_ onion.

The message was thoroughly received and there would be no more translation services provided, no more talking at all. Rodney could put the ideas together without his help. If they couldn't get back to Atlantis, John wanted to be allowed to just sit in the same room as Rodney and for them both to be left alone and safe and not in pain. And John hid his face and tried not to cry because he knew that wasn't how it was gonna go down. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes, ignoring the bruises, to make the tears stop. It was a week into this game and he was done, like some stupid kid who just wanted to go home. He hurt and the pain wasn't stacking up like usual. It hit different.

Every other planet, any other torture, it had always been temporary. They could make it through anything because they were just tourists, just visiting. They just had to step through the magic doorway and go home. Lock the door behind them and turn off the porch light. 

But this one, there was no 'gate to get home. Suddenly space was huge and being two galaxies from Earth actually meant something. He didn't even know if Teyla and Ronon had made it out when they got pinned down at the 'gate. 

There was Rodney, on a stupid TV screen, and cold cells, and Kolya, in his face. And John needed Rodney more than anything, because with that three-part equation, Rodney was all he had as proof that home was still there, that there was a reason he couldn't just curl up and cry. And Rodney only existed on a closed circuit video feed except for visits to the infirmary. But no, John reminded himself, the solution to the problem was _not_ to end up in the infirmary more often. Kolya would just kill him and start in on Rodney. That was not how to get home.

John wiped his face on the blanket and took a steeling breath. He had his breakdown. One per turn. It was time to get his head right and get through it. It felt like thinking through fog, but he could get through it, if he pushed hard enough.

"Sheppard."

The voice behind him kicked up rage and John sat up, fast, ignoring the pain in his back. He only stilled at the concern that maybe Rodney was with Kolya again. But still, the man had snuck up behind him, and John wasn't stupid. He turned where he sat, dragging the chain attached to the shackles back across his lap, to keep his back away as Kolya walked into the room. He stared at the Genii Commander, anger in check behind a mask. Kolya just smiled at him.

"You’re looking better," Kolya said. John figured he was lying but they also had very different expectations of _better_. Kolya's version probably meant _broken_. He hurt but John wasn't there yet. No matter how badly he would rather be home. He didn't say anything. Kolya nodded and grabbed the chair off the wall to move where Rodney had been. He made himself cozy, crossed an ankle over his knee. Slouched and folded his hands over his stomach. Tapped two fingers over the back of his other hand and smiled broadly as John went pale.

"So. The report is that my little experiment is going well. The first jammer is nearly completed, even," Kolya said. "It seems with the proper motivation, Dr. McKay can be highly productive."

John gave a vague nod, because Kolya was expecting something, but John wasn't feeling like providing it. He felt a lot like being sick, disgust and anger churning his stomach, but he didn't want to give Kolya the satisfaction of seeing it.

"Which means I can afford to be generous. You will have two more days here. Three if this continues. And when he asks to see you, I will allow it," said Kolya.

"He won't," said Sheppard, willing it more than knowing anything. He had told Rodney to stay away, damn it. Kolya seemed amused.

"He has already asked three times," said Kolya. John tensed at the look.

"Fine, then let him in and I'll convince him to stop," he replied. The Commander's smug look darkened. 

"You are not here to give orders, I remind you."

He tapped his fingers again and John choked back the need to be sick. It was enough of a reaction all the same and Kolya leaned forward to poke at the reflex, trigger it more, a smile on his face.

"And that's your _one_ reminder," he said, holding up one finger. The second finger joined and he made a _snipping_ motion with them that John knew was just another reminder of all the promised pain he couldn’t prevent. "No more after that." 

"What, then?" John shot back, the rage winning for the moment. "What am I supposed to do? Sit silent in a cell until you decide he's screwed up. Because opening my mouth is a threat?"

"Yes."

John managed a small, inward smile about that at least. "Then he shouldn't visit if I'm a threat."

"As long as he works for the Genii, he gets what he wants. Your mouth can be shut for you if you won't keep it that way," replied Kolya. 

"That's it, huh? Work for the Genii, no more problems?" 

"The offer was not extended to you. You're only useful as long as is necessary to keep the doctor working. After that, you and I made an arrangement, I expect we'll honor that from there," said Kolya. That was strangely hilarious to John and he did let out a surprised laugh. Their _arrangement_ had been that John would kill him for hurting his team, his city. And now he had Sheppard chained to a bed in an infirmary. John was as much of a realist as the next guy and he wasn't stupid enough to assume things were going to take any kind of positive turn for him from there. Months of this, just to get a bullet when Rodney finally fixed the stargate. 

"McKay's my team, but he's not worth what you're promising," said John. "Let's skip to the end. Save the Genii the food rations. That's gonna get slim now that the 'gate's not an option."

"You'll eat. Or you'll be forced to," said Kolya. He stood up and John blinked, steeling himself against the flinch. The Commander shoved the chair to the wall, preparing to leave. "Three days, Sheppard. Behave while you're here. And keep your mouth shut."

"Fuck you, Kolya," replied John.

"I see you're in a hurry to," the man said, stopping at the door to look him over. John glared until Kolya turned to leave. He managed not to get sick at least. That was an improvement. In a few days, maybe he would have it figured out.

* * *

The fifth day of tramping out through the ivy and the forest and the constant rain was when Teyla started to worry. They had seen no sign of the Colonel or Rodney on any of their previous visits. The gate was their only designated meeting place, and they should have seen each other even if they had all found different villages to take refuge in. Teyla and Ronon had managed to stick together at least, but there was no telling if the other two had been separated. 

"If it were not for the damage to the stargate, I would be worried they were no longer on the planet," Teyla said, quiet as she followed after Ronon along a trail they had already covered from end to end. 

"If it weren't for the damage to the 'gate, _we'd_ be on another planet by now," replied Ronon. 

"Yes, and we wouldn't have been separated in the first place," said Teyla. Ronon shrugged and nodded, distracted, and a few steps later, the tall Satedan dodged into a crouch and pulled Teyla to the side. She knew her partner well and didn't question, instead looked to where his gaze was fixed and prepared her P90. He wove along a game trail and wound further away from the village trail that led to the stargate. They angled away from it and caught another trail that ran up over a heavily forested ridge, until he stopped just at a switchback edge that looked down at the back of the stargate. 

"Shit," Ronon grumbled. Teyla edged up at his shoulder to see what he had found. "I heard talking, knew it wasn't McKay. Was these guys."

Teyla’s heart sank as she watched an entire team of people in the dark green and brown uniforms of the Genii swarming around the stargate. They were constructing something, tall and short poles being levered up to stand above the broken 'gate.

"We can't be found here," she said. She put her hand on Ronon's arm to pull him back with her. "They are Genii, and we are not safe with them here."

Ronon quirked an eyebrow at her. "Yeah? What about Sheppard and McKay then?"

Teyla shook her head. "It would depend on who their leader is for this group. Atlantis has a treaty, at the moment, but the Genii are... fractured. Only some of their people respect it."

"I think we should wait. Watch for signs of Sheppard."

"Fine. They don't know your face. Stay and watch, but I know these people. They will know me from Atlantis and things may not go well," said Teyla. She nodded back down the trail. "I'll go back to the village. Meet you at Shrai's."

Ronon looked out at the activity by the stargate. "We shouldn't split up."

"Then you must go with me. If I am recognized, it is possible there could be trouble," replied Teyla. When Ronon hesitated, Teyla pointed his attention to some minor activity on the other side of the clearing from the poles. Some of the uniforms were gathered around large slabs of the stargate runes. "They are fixing the stargate, Ronon. When it is done, we can see if it works. We can radio Atlantis and come back. But you and I cannot be any help to the Colonel or Dr. McKay if we end up on the wrong end of a Genii weapon."

That caught Ronon's interest. "How long does it take to fix?"

"As long as it takes to take it apart," replied Teyla. "How long were we in the village that first day?"

"Six hours, give or take." Ronon looked down at the pulley and ladder system being built around the stargate. "So we've got a few hours."

"And I think we should use them wisely," Teyla replied. Ronon nodded his agreement and reluctantly backed away from the trail edge.

"That many people, the village must deal with them. Know where to find them," he said.

Teyla picked her way carefully down the muddy trail, keeping her voice soft as they spoke. "Precisely. And with any luck, when we come back with Major Lorne we will know where to find them."

Ronon grunted like he didn't quite share her optimistic outlook, but he nodded anyway.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> TW: reference to rape, reference to nausea/sick, panic attack.


	4. Chapter 4

Rodney got his Sheppard-time. Once a day, even if it was after visiting hours. Aside from the fact that he was a prisoner, with another prisoner assigned to take his beatings for him, the Genii really were treating Rodney close to royalty. He seemed healthier anyway, which meant he was eating at least while John was in the infirmary. He was paler, which meant for Rodney somehow that he was all the more colorful, but they weren't exactly letting Rodney see sunlight either.

McKay had drawn very clear lines in his head while he knew John was safe. He was working for the Genii people, to help an entire civilization, and not for Kolya. Or Cowen. John wasn't sure how Rodney could twist his brain into that particular pretzel but he was careful not to poke at it. It meant Rodney was doing a better job at keeping them alive than John was. Considering he was chained to a bed, and had by necessity learned how to use the bedpan stashed under it, John was more or less resigned to being useless. He had accomplished exactly one personal and not-to-be-written-home-about thing in the time that Rodney had gone off trying to figure out how to improve the lives of an entire civilization. It was why Rodney was amazing and maddening in the same breath. 

And before and after McKay-time, every time, Sheppard got Kolya's time. Like the Commander had to check in on John's mental state, before he would allow the princeling near it, and then a debriefing afterward. And it became very obvious that, while John took the violence personally, it was the job for Kolya. There were lines John would cross to get his job done but literally fucking anyone into a desk wasn't one of them. He may be the fuck-up who put a bullet through a superior officer but mercy was the polar opposite of abusing a hostage. 

Kolya was a special kind of screwed up and John would still put a bullet in him at the first opportunity, it just didn't look like the opportunity would be presented any time soon. And in the meanwhile, John was wrapped in bandages and moved like an old man because of the bastard. And he got daily visits with Rodney, where his friend took his hand and kissed his head like family and John had to bite his tongue. He needed it somehow. But even when his brain was clouded, from pain and whatever the Genii docs put in the IV, John knew it was going to bite him on the ass when he was let out of the infirmary because Kolya saw it all.

And it did. Kolya changed the arrangement. John wasn't to be sent back to the cells anymore. John hadn't been prepared for that. He had spent days psyching himself to face bars and bare walls and the damn camera. And then he was finally let out, cleaned up and dressed in some Genii casual wear. It was pants and a shirt, at least, and the nurse was confused by the request but he got his boxers back, clean and wearable. He didn't know why exactly but that was important to him. All dressed up like a mop-haired, bruised-up Genii, in socks and leather shoes and shackled wrists, he was dropped off like a present for the new Genii darling, at a lab and not a cell. 

The lab had improved and John stood in the doorway, not recognizing anything in it from the screen in the cells. There was actual stuff in it now. Things Rodney could get his hands into and build with, even tools. John tried not to let his eyes linger on the random screwdriver too much because Kolya had hold of the short chain between his wrists, hanging on like a leash even though John's arms were still attached. Sheppard was better with Kolya in his space but the urge to club him in the face with an elbow was strong and Kolya knew it, based on the way he kept John's arms held out straight.

Rodney didn't even notice the door opening. He was used to being checked on now. He was too focused on whatever he was building. 

"Dr. McKay," said Kolya, and Sheppard still flinched at his voice. 

"What?" snapped McKay, true to form. John tried not to cringe. He attempted a smile.

"I could've told you _that_ was gonna happen," he offered up quietly. Kolya twisted his arm just slightly enough and John shut his mouth. At John’s voice, though, Rodney stumbled off the stool and took a few steps toward them in the bigger room.

"Sorry! Was just busy, didn't see," he reported. Kolya nodded like the benevolent dictator and let go of the chain to catch John's elbow instead. He pointed toward the padded bench and steered John to it. 

"You stay within three feet of this," said Kolya. There was a box marked in paint on the floor that he pointed out. John stared, wide eyed. He slid inside the lines and as far away from Kolya as he was allowed. Rodney watched, keen eyes noting the distance. He stepped closer. 

"I can keep him here?" he asked. John's eyebrows climbed up. Kolya frowned at the question. 

"Is the second jammer complete?" he asked, rather than answer. Rodney went back to where he had been working, came back carrying something that looked like a bulky, leather-wrapped keyfob.

"Can be stitched in whenever. I was just working on the radiation detector improvements," he said. Kolya looked from Rodney to John and back, then he nodded. 

"Get it done," he said. It was an order and Rodney acknowledged with a nod. 

"It'll take ten minutes. Tops," he said. It was eerie, watching Rodney being accommodating to the Commander. Like watching him work with Elizabeth or Sam Carter, but very much _not_. It was fake smiles. Ass-kissing like he was dealing with the IOA or the Nobel panel. He stood with his shoulders straight and arms behind his back, rocking on his toes like he was proud of himself. They all stood there in a lopsided triangle, Rodney dangerously close to Kolya in John's opinion though he refused to say so, and there was waiting, though John didn't know what for any more than Rodney seemed to. Kolya finally waved a hand.

"Now."

Rodney blinked at him. "Now what?"

"The jammer. Now," said Kolya. His patience was being tried and John's blood pressure climbed a notch higher. Rodney snapped his fingers and jumped to go back to his workstation. Then he waved John over to him absently. John took an active step backwards.

"Box, McKay," he said as a reminder.

Rodney looked up at him, confused. He was obviously stressing. _Shit_. 

John looked to Kolya for permission but the man just smiled at him like a creeper. Sheppard decided that was a definite _no_ and sat down on the bench to remove himself from play.

Rodney came back over, snapping his fingers. "Then I need the shirt, Sheppard. Help me out somehow, here."

It was the usual Rodney-annoyance, but the tone made John nervous under the circumstances. He couldn’t exactly fight back as he usually could without Kolya getting in his face. Rather than risk saying anything that might be construed as an order, John held up his hands toward Rodney, which were very much stuck together in a way that would definitely prevent the shirt from being handed over. Rodney’s pink face went rather white.

"Oh."

John nodded silently. Rodney looked to Kolya, pained.

"What can I knock off the list that will get those gone?" he asked. John blinked and made a mental note to ask about that comment at some point when Kolya wasn't present. 

"Those stay until his body leaves the compound," Kolya said, tone no different than if they had been discussing the weather. Rodney went impossibly still at the reminder that John, at least, was nothing more than a dead man walking to the Genii Commander. John distracted him by grabbing at the collar of his new shirt and tugging it up and off. He was still wrapped in bandages so he could deal with Kolya standing four feet away. The man wasn't likely to poke fingers through the bandages, though it was still a thing he would do when he showed up when the nurses were changing the dressings.

"Can you make it quick, though? I don't know how long this will work," said John. Kolya raised an eyebrow because they had been over the thing where John wasn't supposed to talk in words that might direct the genius to take otherwise unplanned actions. John glared at him. " _Doctor's_ orders. He doesn't want to restitch my shoulder."

"Shit," muttered Rodney and he sat down on the bench and pulled the shirt collar and John's wrists into his lap. He bent his head over his work and John met him halfway, one of Teyla’s head-bumps that just didn't let up immediately. One handy thing about Atlantis was that everyone had gotten really good at sewing their clothes back up, and Rodney was at least quick about it even though he wasn't going to be winning any quilting bees any time soon. When the heavy jammer fob was secured to the back of the shirt, John carefully pulled it back over his head, with Rodney awkwardly trying to help it settle down over the bandages.

Kolya watched, not bothering to get annoyed at how long it took the Genii's favorite scientist to do hand-stitching. He seemed satisfied that the job was done and turned his attention to Rodney. 

"Show me what you are working on now," he said, another order. And just like that, Rodney was up and back at one of the room's many desks. John had to try to block them out because the jammer tugged at the shirt weird, irritating one of the stripes on his neck, and it was clashing with hearing Rodney's and Kolya's voices one after the other. John wasn't in a good headspace and the longer Kolya was in the room, the harder it was to get out of. 

It didn't help that they were working on how to improve the Genii theory on nukes. John had enough nightmares to deal with, now Rodney sat across the room making him live a new one out loud. John was exhausted though and he curled up on the padded bench. He was almost to the meditating state where he could fall asleep when he heard Rodney’s temper rise in his tone.

"I understand that's what you want, but I assure you, without sufficient Ancient technology, it isn't possible," said Rodney, his usual blunt self. "And while I can get you to a technological level on par with other Tau’ri, I can't get you to the Ancients level. Not without Atlantis or at the very least one of the larger ships."

"But if we could get you these things, you could," insisted Kolya. John kept his eyes mostly closed, watching them unnoticed. Rodney was irritated.

"Of course I could. The theory is there, the materials and tools are not, so which problem do you want me to work on first?"

He was a tired and snappish scientist but he was still in full control of his faculties and John was only sixty-percent certain he would be back in the infirmary before dinnertime. He opened his eyes and cautiously sat up. That was apparently not intelligent because Kolya noticed him. 

"Sheppard, over here. Now."

"Oh come on. Be reasonable!" Rodney said, talking over him. "You promised you wouldn't kill him if I worked and you _nearly did,_ and I've been _working anyway_ , and he's not _physically capable_ of tolerating any more of what you already put him through and you're a moron if you think I am not _keenly_ aware of that, so believe me, _believe_ me, when I tell you that what you're asking for is not humanly possible without the intervention of a more highly developed species than any of us in this room have ever met in our lives."

Kolya narrowed his eyes but he seemed to be listening. All the same, John stood a few feet away, waiting. He was going to hurt one way or the other, so he would take the one that got him closer to the tools he could fantasize about using as weapons. 

"I will see what we can get for you," Kolya finally said. He reached over and caught John's shoulder in a mockery of a friendly gesture, squeezing and digging fingers in where he knew it would hurt. "And your friend goes back after your meal."

Rodney sagged a little in his chair. "What do you mean goes back?"

"Where do you expect him to sleep?" Kolya asked, and it would have been reasonable except John was seeing white from the pain in his shoulder. He caught a stool and steadied himself as Rodney struggled to find words.

"Okay! Fine! After dinner!" Rodney said, and he lost whatever internal battle he had been waging and reached out to catch John by the wrist and pull him away. John stumbled on the stool, which added a little more distance between himself and Kolya. The Commander chuckled as he turned and left the room. Rodney looked up at him, worried, but John just sat himself down on the stool and tried to wave him off. 

"I have questions," he said carefully. Rodney hesitated, then turned to his laptop - which looked to be plugged in to power somehow, _what the hell, Rodney?_ \- and opened the screen back up. 

"I have to work still. Ask."

"What d'you mean he nearly killed me?" John asked. Rodney spun the chair to stare at him, jaw dropped.

"Didn't anyone tell you?" 

John shook his head. "I'm not supposed to talk to the nurses. And the doctor asks questions, doesn't answer them."

"Oh for chrissakes-" Rodney looked like he wanted to throw something but he leaned forward over his knees and scrubbed at his face instead. There were a few more curses but he got it calmed down.

"Look, you bled out. A lot. Everywhere. For hours," he finally said. "And the human body can only lose so much blood-"

"I'm not Genii, Rodney. Dumb it down and I _will_ hit you," John warned. 

"When I asked, the doctor said you had gone into shock by the time somebody thought to get you care. He's been reigning over Kolya about it all week. Your body hadn't shut down yet but it was close, it was already screwed up from the tranq dart which was really just poison anyway, and they had to do transfusions and these people are backwards as hell so it's lucky you aren't dead from _that_ alone," Rodney said. He waved vaguely toward the door. "I negotiated with him to get you in here because he said you would be released to him after a week, but the doctor told me he wouldn't let you out of the infirmary for at least two, and it wasn't right. You look like hell, John. You shouldn't be doing even this much. You can't go to the cells yet."

Processing the news, John slowly nodded. "Feel like hell."

"Then go sit down. Get better. Please," Rodney replied. He took another look at him before frowning and turning his attention back to the laptop on the desk. John stood up then on autopilot, in the forbidden territory _not_ inside the box around the padded bench, feeling very lost and unanchored. He knew he had been in trouble, before Kolya had gotten him on the desk, but he didn't realize just how much. That was probably part of why he had been able to do it at all, which oddly made John feel a little better. All the same, the bench wasn't where John wanted to be.

If he was going to get in trouble later for being out of the box, fine. He would, too, because Kolya had left him there. Kolya had set him up and Kolya would knock him down for it later. So John bumped Rodney’s wheeled chair back from the desk, ignoring the confused yelp he made about it because Rodney quieted his complaints when he looked up at him. The man was a genius, he was paying attention, so he would figure it out. John carefully stepped over his friend's legs and settled on his lap, draping his arms over Rodney’s shoulders and hugging him. 

Rodney caught on to what he was doing, startled by it, but reacted all the same and carefully caught him at his ribs to help John keep his balance as he settled against him. John curled into him as much as he could, chin on his shoulder, and Rodney set a hand at his side and ruffled his hair at his neck with the other because he couldn't hug him with the crisscrossed stripes all over John's back. Rodney set his chin to rest on John's shoulder, his hands settling at his hips as uninjured territory. 

"What’s this? I don't know-" he began, voice low, safe.

"Help, buddy," was all John could manage then. Rodney accepted it and nodded. 

"Got it," he replied. He eased the chair forward so he could reach the keyboard. A heartbeat later, Rodney leaned forward into John's weight just as he leaned on him, and John felt a distracted butterfly kiss pressed on his shoulder where the loose Genii linen collar got crumpled aside between them. 

And Rodney, being Rodney, went back to working on whatever was on the laptop on the desk behind John, not seeming to mind the six-foot-two monkey in his lap. 

John squeezed his arms tighter and turned his head to add in his own kisses in thanks. He wasn't sure exactly when Rodney got so okay with being touched, it normally wasn't his thing at all, but the guy was tolerating it like a champ for him lately. And there wasn't much more important than that in John's world at the moment.

* * *

For one reason or another, Rodney figured he wasn’t going to get in trouble for not sending John back to the box across the room. Supposedly, the bigger lab wasn't monitored. The funny thing with the orders to build a jammer that would interrupt the RF from their transmitters was that doing so would interfere with their archaic transmission signals for the closed-circuit feed. Not that the two systems were likely at all related, audio and visual were different frequencies, but that was what Rodney built into the jammers and would have zero factual explanation for if anyone of the Genii was smart enough to question it. The frequency generated by the palm-sized fobs screwed up the video transmission and that was all it would do. He had carefully checked it on the screens in the other lab before they moved him, which was even more ironic considering it was the first scrambler that had gotten him rewarded with the new lab. All that mattered was that _Kolya TV_ was not happening ever again. 

John had fallen asleep in Rodney's lap and stayed that way for a half an hour while Rodney worked on the next project on the list. It was quiet in this lab, no buzzing lights, no TV sounds, so McKay could handle the tactile overload of his friend touching him. Not just touch, but a very heavy, grounding weight, too. Like a weighted sensory blanket. It made Rodney actually sleepy, and once he was used to it, it was comfortable. Until his legs fell asleep, anyway, and that became a whole other problem. But for a while there, somehow, Rodney was leaned into a hug, and working, and thinking clearly without panic or stress or noise from his own head. 

He liked it. Part of that was because he could feel his friend was alive, could feel the warmth of his breath on his shoulder. And John was asleep, right in his arms, and safe. He was still hurting but he wasn't somewhere else getting hurt worse. And all of those things were at the front of Rodney’s mind the whole time, clearing the static and allowing everything else to connect and process and... work. He missed that peace when John woke himself up and banished himself to the bench across the room. 

Despite the fact that he couldn't feel his toes, Rodney had caught John by the elbows and asked for the "Teyla thing" and John grinned as he touched his forehead to Rodney's, hands still looped behind his neck. When John moved to stand, Rodney kept his hands on his sides to help keep him balanced and John didn't say anything about it. He wasn't himself. Rodney worried and didn't ask because John went back over to the bench and right back to sleep. 

It was an hour or so later before Rodney looked up from what he was working on in the quiet. The stripes at John's shoulder had started bleeding again, either from Kolya's help or from how John had curled up on the bench, and Rodney dropped rather quickly into panic as he saw it soaking the man's shirt. He woke John to make sure he could, let him know what he saw. 

"It's probably not bad," John muttered, straining to gingerly peek over his own shoulder at the damage. 

"I'm going to ask about getting you back to the infirmary," replied Rodney anyway.

"Don't get trouble," said John, shaking his head.

"It's not trouble. It's the doctor. He's not Carson, but he's better than freezing and bleeding to death up here," said Rodney. John frowned at him for it but nodded.

"Did you get your work done?" Sheppard asked.

"Basics of what I was trying to do, yes. And about five others started alongside," said Rodney. 

"Do I wanna know any of it?"

Rodney ignored the question by walking to the door to check for the guards he had gotten used to lurking in the hall where he couldn't yell at them. John probably did want to know what Rodney was doing for the Genii but Rodney didn't want to tell him. It was no different than writing academic papers, reports and bullshit he didn’t have to track down citations for, and it was enough to make Kolya think Rodney was being productive and helpful. The _helpful_ part was what Rodney didn’t want to tell John about. Sheppard made a disgruntled noise but wasn't feeling well enough to argue, which only proved Rodney right.

He negotiated to take John to the infirmary himself, because the guards didn’t want to leave either of them effectively unattended. And the first thing Rodney said when they saw the doctor was "Kolya hurt him again."

Not that he had proof, but still, nobody questioned him. There was some grumbling and John was taken away from him to his room to be investigated. Rodney lurked at the door, not wanting to snoop or invade, but not wanting to leave Sheppard there, either. 

"Doctor, why didn't you explain to Sheppard what his injuries were?" Rodney asked. The doctor scoffed.

"They seem fairly obvious."

"What if he had wanted to refuse treatment?"

"That's what these are for," the doctor replied, tugging on the chain he had already attached to the shackles. "My job is to keep him alive for you."

"Can I say _I told you so_ , or is that against the rules?" John asked dryly.

The doctor tugged at the collar of John's shirt as a warning before pulling it over his head to get stuck on his arms again. The nurse noted it would have to be washed. Rodney stepped forward quickly.

"Give me the shirt before it gets washed. The jammer isn't waterproof," he said. The nurse blinked at him.

"The what?" 

Rodney huffed and stalked forward to show her the patch he had sewn in place. "There's obvious problems with this system, but this is how Kolya wants to do things, so we'll just have to replace it when it's time to wash the shirt."

"Pockets," John suggested. "Easy."

"Kolya won't sign off on carrying the jammer in pockets," Rodney replied, dismissing the idea. He had already been down that road with the Commander. 

"It's only the shoulder. We can just spot-clean," said the nurse. Problem solved. But Rodney stayed where he was, cluttering up the space near John as the doctor poked at his shoulder. He heard Sheppard hiss at something and looked up.

"Pain medication a possibility?" Rodney asked. Sheppard laughed out loud. Rodney looked from his friend to the doctor. "What?"

"The Commander ordered pain medication cut off three days ago," replied the doctor. 

"Well, I want him on them," said Rodney, angry beyond simple annoyance at incompetence. "He needs to heal so I can get his help. I told Kolya that. Now I'm telling you."

"Rodney..." Sheppard said, voice quiet.

"Shut up, Colonel," returned McKay, not wanting to be lied to and assured it was okay when it wasn’t. 

"Doctor McKay, please stop harassing the medical staff," said Kolya's voice from the door. Rodney was surprised enough to startle but he recovered and turned quickly to march to the Commander to repeat himself.

"You said he was in the infirmary to heal, so let him heal," said Rodney, ire aimed in the right place this time. "That means medications. That means actually listening to the medical recommendations of the staff. Not your power trips. I need him fit to work, and you're blocking that. On purpose."

"Yes, I am," replied Kolya, without a trace of hesitation. Rodney was surprised enough by it that he went quiet. Kolya nodded his approval of the reaction.

"Are you done?" the Commander asked.

"Well, no. Because that didn't make sense. I need to work, you said, I agreed, and now you're doing something to prevent me from working, and you know it," said Rodney, blunt as usual. "So I don't understand what it is I am supposed to be doing if it isn't _working_."

"You are supposed to be working. Not worrying about Sheppard," replied Kolya. 

"That's easiest solved by him working with me, and then there will be no worrying, as I'll be yelling. I can yell at him, and things will be normal," said Rodney. 

"I am far too aware of what a man of your genius can do with the materials we have supplied your lab with, Dr. McKay. I will not allow Sheppard to work alongside you with that same access."

"He doesn't have to work alongside me for me to be able to talk to him about what I am doing and have him confirm my notes," returned McKay. 

"I'm beginning to doubt your intelligence," said Kolya. "Your entire argument is weak. You really can't do your work without having someone to yell at? I am to believe this?"

Rodney felt his face flush, his temper rising at the insult. "Yes, and you're also missing the point-"

"The point is that you are arguing about something which you will not win," Kolya said, firmly interrupting him to shut him down. "Where is the logic in that?"

Rodney frowned, his eyebrows narrowing over an annoyed squint. "What am I now, Vulcan? I don't give a damn about the logic, I am telling you, I have a demand and I expect it met."

"It will not be."

"Fine. Let me talk to Chief Cowen," said Rodney. He would go over Kolya's head if he had to. He wasn't expecting Kolya to nod his approval of the demand.

"Certainly. You can talk to Cowen when we have the stargate operational again. I believe, however, you are yet quite far away from that project," replied Kolya. "In the meantime, my patience is wearing thin, and you have not yet eaten."

Rodney wasn't exactly positive about it, but that sounded like a threat. But even as a threat, that didn't make sense either. 

"I have to eat. I have hypoglycemia. If I don't eat, bad things happen," replied Rodney. They had been over this days ago. Kolya nodded his head again.

"You should consider that before you pursue your worthless arguments further," he said. Rodney clamped his mouth shut. He was still angry, but he wasn't stupid. The conversation wasn't over, but it was definitely being postponed until after he knew he wouldn't have to starve for it, because that wouldn't do either himself or John any good.

Kolya waved his attention back toward John, where he sat on the edge of the bed between the doctor and the nurse, all of them looking on in a sort of visible disbelief at the argument. 

"Say your goodbyes and get back to work," said Kolya.

It seemed like a kindness, but it was still an order. And Rodney didn't want to leave John there. So he set his mind to the next best thing. He stalled. McKay walked over and crouched in front of John's legs, catching his wrists for balance and ignoring the crick in his knees for it. John stared at him, green eyes widening and then narrowing, like he wanted to yell when they both knew he couldn't. The doctor stood inches away, snooping without hesitation and only pretending to work at unfastening the clips that held the bandages in place. Rodney ignored him, and the nurse and Kolya, and stared at John instead.

"Tell me something," he requested.

"What?" John asked, quiet.

"Anything. I don't know. Just... talk," replied Rodney. It went over easily and Sheppard nodded like he understood. 

"You’re an idiot," said John, like that was his wisdom to impart for the day. Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Aside from that. Something else."

John stared back at him, looking down instead of up and wincing randomly when the doctor hit the wrong spot as he unwrapped the bandages. But his frown lightened up.

"Remember on Atlantus? When you guys dragged me out of McMurdo to make all those gadgets work for a few weeks before we left? And the chair and everything?" John asked finally.

"Of course," replied Rodney. "And you broke half of them."

"I think that was more like a group effort," John said, dismissing the accusation with a scrunch of his face that wasn't pain for once. "And then later we found the shield and you let me shoot you and all that. We were working, but it was fun. We made a good team from the start. Doesn't make any damn sense. But it does."

Rodney was surprised by the walk down memory lane. It didn’t exactly help Rodney’s brain to go back in time. John seemed coherent and lucid, enough to look annoyed every so often. He hadn't had any idea what his stalling would accomplish, but this turn was certainly unexpected. "What? What doesn't?" 

"You hate flying-"

"The Jumpers aren't so bad-"

"You hate people touching you. You hate touching people."

"Well, yes-"

"You don't even _like_ most people."

"Neither do you," Rodney interrupted, confident in that at least.

John lifted his wrists enough to shift Rodney’s balance slightly, just to make sure he had his attention. "You let me throw you off a _balcony_ , Rodney."

"I was perfectly safe. We had already proved that a dozen times over."

"I dragged you _here_ ," said John, adding to the list. Rodney shook his head.

"My _job-_ "

" _My_ team," John interrupted. And he wasn't wrong, Rodney realized. He probably wouldn't have been on AR-1 if it weren't for the time they spent working on the Ancient technology before the expedition formed to get to Atlantis. Rodney considered Sheppard a friend before they stepped through the 'gate, even if he hadn't put words to it exactly. He was attached early, the opposite of his usual patterns with other people. 

"So yeah. We make a good team," Rodney said. John nodded. He tugged up on his arms enough to make Rodney lever up a little taller and he set his forehead to Rodney's. 

"So _trust_ me. I won't break anything else," Sheppard whispered. Rodney wanted to argue, because John wasn't talking about ancient doodads and whatsits. He was talking about flesh and blood and bones up against guards and guns and explosives. And Kolya. And John was just trying to keep Rodney away from that. Not like it would work anyway. But Rodney wasn't helping his efforts by picking fights. He reluctantly agreed, offering a slight nod. His knees were killing him so he had to stop stalling anyway. McKay slid his hands to John's thighs to help lever himself back up. 

"McKay?" John asked, looking carefully up at him, mindful of the doctor's work on his shoulder. He sounded kind of panicked, like he hadn't meant to say it. Rodney stood in front of him, waiting. He ran out of time, with Kolya standing a few feet away, impatient. John still hadn’t said whatever he had started to say. Rodney leaned down to catch his hand, squeezing his fingers briefly. He pressed a kiss to his cheek and figured that was what John wasn't asking for. The tactile idiot. Sheppard was lucky Rodney was more European than he was. And that Rodney was very settled on the plan to get John whatever comfort he could. 

* * *

The village knew of the Genii. They were neighbors and friendly allies and had been for generations. That threw a complication in Teyla’s current arrangements with the Toacna and the agreements that they had brokered on behalf of Atlantis. They had, as of yet, no proof that the Genii the Toacna knew had taken John Sheppard and Rodney McKay, and to accuse them to their allies would shut down the only information they had. So Teyla tread carefully. 

"Where is their village? Can someone take us there? We believe Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay may have gotten lost in the storms last week and may have ended up with them," Teyla tried instead. 

The bright features of the usually cheerful Shrai faded sincerely as she gave Teyla a sympathetic look and nodded. "Of course. It's not hard to get turned around in the woods. It's a full day's journey from here. We can go tomorrow, as it's far too late in the day to be going now."

Teyla frowned and looked to Ronon for his opinion. For that, they could try their luck with going back for reinforcements and coming back in the morning with Puddlejumpers and Marines. Ronon seemed to be thinking the same thing. He shrugged then. 

"That doesn't quite sound like Sheppard," he said. "Getting lost that far from a 'gate. Sounds like a dead end."

"Perhaps it's not. Truly, the woods after sundown are bad enough. With the rains we've been having, it wouldn't surprise me," said Shrai. "It would be no trouble to go to the village, just time. My sister married a Genii farmer two cycles back. I would love the visit."

Teyla sighed and agreed. "It has already been a week. I'm sure one more evening won't make much difference if they're safe in the other village," she allowed. And they had to wait for the 'gate to be repaired anyway. They couldn't go back after dark and risk missing a Genii watcher and so would not be able to try the stargate until daylight, however they timed it. So Shrai opened her family home to them for yet another night, and Teyla lay in the loft above their barn and tried to ignore Ronon’s grumblings about wasting time.

"The Genii are a clever people, Ronon. We may learn more on the ground than Major Lorne could from above, so I think it may be worth our time," Teyla whispered back. "Some live above ground as farmers, to fool the Wraith, while others create massive cities underground that rival Atlantis in size. The city entrances cannot be seen from the air."

"We could look on the ground if we had Marines behind us," Ronon said.

"Not without alerting our hosts that something is wrong," returned Teyla. "And we have no way to know what kind of greetings we would return to."

"I thought you said these people were allies?" Ronon's question was a scoffed observation but still a challenge.

"Dismantling the 'gate for a week and in that manner... hardly seems the actions of a friend," replied Teyla. "To say nothing of the fact that they opened fire on us."

"So pretend nothing is wrong, and make sure we have an invitation to bring Atlantis back," said Ronon. At Teyla’s nod, he grumbled again, but he reached over to her sleeping bag and pulled her bodily toward him across the straw-covered loft floor to wrap her and her sleeping bag in a protective hug.

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

The trip to the Genii village was, predictably, useless. No one had seen two travelers in the last week other than Ronon and Teyla. The only advantage was that they now knew where it was located. The setup seemed familiar to Teyla, with the sweet and friendly, welcoming families meeting them at the city's edge and inviting them to a meal. But after her experience with her friends turning into her captors, Teyla had learned caution, learned to read people's smiles differently. And when Shrai’s sister invited them to stay longer and leave in the morning after their long travels, there was little option other than to accept. There was no arguing with the rain and the cold that had followed them from the forests. It was more time to look around, meet people. 

These Genii were different than the people Teyla had known for so many years. They were very accepting, even delighted to learn that Ronon and Teyla were together as partners as well as teammates, as though the potential for union elevated their position. It was a new stage for their friendship, certainly, but Teyla didn’t understand the celebration of it from complete strangers. It was somehow more isolating. She found herself standing closer to Ronon out of some odd instinct that they may need to run without warning. 

The one good thing of it, however, was that no one questioned that they explored into the darker corners of the village on their own; while they looked for trap doors and hidden passages, their hosts assumed they merely wanted time alone. And Teyla quite enjoyed encouraging that erroneous assumption. Ronon was focused on finding their team and needed to ground himself, but meditation was out of the question, and sparring would only add to his intensity. He looked at Teyla differently since they had expanded their relationship, however, and a well-timed touch could turn that focus to her quite easily. She needed her partner to be ready and alert, not hyperfocused on things they couldn’t yet see. 

Daylight in the Genii village brought no more answers than the twilight the day before, though perhaps less rainfall. Ronon and Teyla had checked barns and shacks and even looked for trails in the surrounding forest, with no luck. Shrai wanted to stay another day with her family, but she at least pretended to understand their urgency and they helped her load a return cart of traded goods between the two villages before they left. They arrived back among the Toacna around sunset again and were yet again too far from the stargate to risk showing up after dark and walking into another Genii trap. They didn’t mention their concerns about the Genii when they asked Shrai’s hospitality one more time. 

After eight days on an increasingly eerie planet, Teyla and Ronon left in the morning. They took the longer trail that went up over the ridge and wrapped around behind the stargate, allowing them to know better what waited for them at the ‘gate. All they found was a completed stargate, with no watchers or guards. When they dialed Atlantis, Teyla radioed first, not trusting the Genii’s reassembled ‘gate, and asked that they send through a MALP to test the wormhole before returning.

“What?” asked Elizabeth, her surprise obvious. “Of course, we can get something started, but... would you care to elaborate?”

“Not at the moment, Doctor? We do not believe we are safe here or I would,” replied Teyla.

“Where is Dr. McKay? He should be able to-”

Teyla had hoped to avoid that question until they got to the other side of the ‘gate but she sighed and handled it as best she could. “We do not know the location of Dr. McKay or Colonel Sheppard, Doctor. We will need reinforcements.”

Elizabeth didn’t ask any additional questions, though they were obviously not far from her mind based on her tone. Ronon shut down the ‘gate after Elizabeth promised to send a test. It took perhaps a half an hour, but they sent through one of Colonel Sheppard’s RC cars from his office rather than a MALP and Teyla laughed as the colorful toy sputtered to a stop inches from Ronon’s boots. The wormhole was securely connected, the readings from Atlantis’ side were reported to be normal. Atlantis closed the ‘gate and Teyla picked up the toy car as Ronon dialed back out. She caught his hand to keep him from looking back as they stepped through the stargate.

“Shut it down.” Elizabeth’s voice ordered the moment they were back in the city. She met them at the stairs but Teyla noticed the marines stationed on either side of the gateroom. The stargate went quiet and dark as Teyla and Ronon followed Elizabeth up to her office. 

"While I'm glad to see the two of you safe, I can't help but notice the absence of Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay. What happened?" Director Elizabeth Weir asked the moment the doors of her office slid closed. There were protocols they were supposed to follow when returning from off world missions, brief isolation for testing, and it was clearly obvious that Dr. Weir was waiving the regulations she herself had seen put in place.

"We were met well by the Taocn people on our first day on the planet, we arranged to begin trade for fruits in exchange for grain. It is a very humid planet and they receive too much rain to successfully grow anything such as that," Teyla began. She made herself sit in the chair across from her friend to help them both focus on their situation. "And we were attacked when we returned to the stargate. They weren't the Taocna, but military uniforms. Ronon and I were separated from the others. When we got to the 'gate, Colonel Sheppard yelled out an order to fall back because it was obvious that the stargate had been damaged somehow-"

"The whole top-center section was gone," added Ronon. "I've never seen anything like that. It didn't make sense."

"But you got through today," said Elizabeth, her tone suspicious. Teyla nodded.

"Three days ago, a contingent of Genii showed up at the 'gate and repaired it.

"The Genii?"

Teyla nodded again. "Genii uniforms. I didn't recognize any of their faces, but according to our contact with the Taocna, the Genii have been on the planet for generations and mix regularly with the other villages."

"Did you find the Genii village?"

" _Village_ , sure," said Ronon. "Took a day to walk there. But that's it."

"We searched quietly for access points as I had seen before," Teyla added. "We will be welcomed back as we made no accusations. But we did not find even a sign of the Colonel or Rodney. No one would admit to having seen them."

"And I don't think Sheppard would walk a day away from the 'gate to get there voluntarily. It was too far. Wrong way," added Ronon. "We need to go back. Take a Jumper and a couple teams. They have to be on the planet somewhere."

Elizabeth nodded. "I'll get Major Lorne in on this. Send you both with him if you think you're fit?" Teyla stood up and Ronon stepped up behind her, the both of them obviously not being left out of the mission. Elizabeth offered them a grateful smile for it. "Good. Then I will work from this end. Once you and Major Lorne's team are through the 'gate, I'll reach out to our supposed allies and find more about why our men would go strangely missing after a Genii attack on neutral territory. This does not sound as innocent as your villagers would like to imply and we will not play this game again."

Teyla nodded her agreement with the plan. She caught Ronon's arm to gently hint him toward the door. "We will go refresh our supplies and be ready when Evan calls for us."

* * *

The cloaked Jumper search wasn't any more successful than when Teyla and Ronon had been searching from the ground. They checked the Taocna village for signs of their missing team, and using the Jumper's sensor array, they looked for the radiation spikes that had accompanied the other Genii sites Atlantis had encountered. There was nothing to find. Major Lorne tried various different tests around the area, looking for signs of "a city under a city" and found only rock and dirt and a water aquifer somewhere deep underground. 

They searched the Genii village using the same tests and sensors, and there was nothing to be found there, either. The Genii village sat on low-elevation, packed earth and sand, nowhere near the mountains surrounding the Taocna to one side, and didn't even show the signs of an underground water source. They were in the middle of a valley, with their only water source being a creek that ran down from a river, miles away from them, and the rains that seemed to plague the area. 

Teyla stood behind Ronon, the big man slouched in the jumpseat behind Lorne in the pilot's chair, the both of them staring out at a planet they had been trapped on for a week. They had been over the forest surrounding the stargate every day, through the village and their neighbors' properties, looking for the team. And now, even the technology that Rodney swore by had failed him and them. She watched Lorne dial the gate, though they were still miles away from it as they cruised, cloaked, over the large stone home Shrai had cautioned Teyla to keep Ronon away from in their wanderings. Even that was turning up nothing unusual on the sensors.

"Go ahead, Major," came Elizabeth’s voice over the Jumper's communication system. Ah, that was why he had dialed out.

"Director, the places we were betting on are a big fat negative. I want another team out here doing a grid search. We've already lost over a week. I want two Jumpers in the air," Evan said. "This place is too spaced out, just miles of absolute nothing, to bother a ground search. Especially in this rain."

"Understood, Major. I'll tap Pullman to head your way," the Director replied. And not long later, they met up with the other pilot. Half the marines from Lorne's Jumper were sent over to the other, more eyes in the cockpits that way, the Major said. The craft were in the air again within minutes, Pullman searching a grid off behind the stargate and Lorne doing a more methodical search of the forest in front of it. There was nothing interesting about it, as they flew a direct course, slower and lower than usual, over the treeline, from the 'gate to the village and back with only slight course variations as the computer on the Jumper built a thorough map of everything under it.

It was close to nightfall when Pullman radioed Lorne. "Sir. We've found something. Looks like the Colonel's tac gear and an LSD. Do I set us down?"

"Investigate, Lt. I'm on the way," replied the Major. He pulled the other Jumper's coordinates up on the HUD and the ship adjusted course automatically. They found the other ship in minutes and had to scout back over the trees to find what Lt. Pullman had found, because the ship had not landed near the place the marines were searching. Then Lorne returned them to the clearing to land. In the growing dark and from above the trees, Teyla didn't like what she saw of the site the marines were combing through, and she ran from the back gate of the Jumper on Ronon's heels to verify their find for herself.

The forest was humid and green, with muddy floors, and drooping branches overhead. It was not dry. And yet, somehow, an entire section, the size of four Jumpers side by side, had burned. There were signs of a fire pit, and that some kind of shelter attempt had been made. The flak vest and LSD box they had mentioned sat on an area that looked like the remnants of a long ago landslide. Black boots were crammed in against them that looked like the Colonel's high topped shoes, and the laces were loose and charred from the fire that had crawled over the ground and ate up the ivy.

And not five feet away from it lay a body, charred and shredded between fire and animals tearing pieces off over the course of a week. Another body was flat out over the fire pit, like they had fallen on it. Just two bodies. No gear, aside from the vest and boots and the two P90s and handguns on the natural shelf of the stones from the landslide. It was certainly Atlantis' gear. But no part of Teyla could believe it could possibly be John and Rodney lying dead. It didn't make sense. 

"This climate shouldn't burn," said Ronon, growling. He pointed toward the fire pit. "Even if he just tripped and fell in the fire, it wouldn't have gotten this hot before the rain could get it out."

"Does it rain every day?" Lorne asked.

"Nearly so," said Teyla.

"It stopped twice since we've been here... so it doesn't rain _all_ day," Lorne pointed out. "I feel the same as you, this... doesn't make sense. But we have to consider it. Sometimes the simplest answer is the correct one, and... two dead bodies in the middle of a burn scar is a _simple_ answer, anyway. But it's too dark to know anything tonight."

"Major..." one of the Marines said, quiet. He crouched over the burned corpse a few feet away, flashlight in hand and pointed at the body. "It looks like bullet holes, execution style. And dogtags."

Lorne moved to check the tags and Teyla heard him swear softly. He quickly stood and backed away, looking ill. "Reyes, Jacobs, go get the bags out of the Jumpers. We're taking the bodies back to Dr. Beckett for autopsy."

"Major?" Teyla asked, concerned by the notable change in the man's demeanor. Evan looked over at her, his expression torn.

"He's got the Colonel's tags. Both of them on the chain... which isn't regs. The Doc's team is going to have to ID them more than that," he said. He shook his head. "This doesn't make sense. But it looks like we found them."

Ronon walked back and snagged the gear off the rocks near Teyla.

"No," he all but growled as he headed back toward the Jumper with an armful of gear wrapped in a flak vest. "This stuff is his. But the bodies aren't."

* * *

To his credit, John didn't break anything else. For the next few days, he was the model patient. Prisoner. Whatever. He did as he was told. He stayed quiet unless he was expected to respond. He wasn't allowed to visit Rodney again, though the scientist was permitted to visit him. He spent most of his days asleep, willing his body to heal faster.

John's shoulder was infected, part of a vicious circle with whatever blood-thing was going on still from the whole nearly-bleeding-out thing, which was all of it together giving the doctor fits, and had started a few fights between the doctor and Kolya. Not because of any outrage on the abuse that had been heaped on Sheppard as some kind of prisoner. But instead because Rodney’s position with the Genii was now understood, and John's status and the importance of his role in that had been made clear to the man, by Rodney himself. They had psyched out the doctor. It wasn’t that he liked John any better, but rather that he wanted Rodney to keep working for his people. The good doctor seemed convinced that arrangement would cease if anything happened to Sheppard. 

That, John figured, was the direction they _wanted_ things to go. No guarantees it wouldn't result in the Genii doctor ending up dead, but if that was the course it took then John would deal with it as it came. In the meantime, he ended up with someone on his side, because his side was Rodney’s side, and he would take the assist however he got it.

But he had also figured out a few things about how Kolya's game was gonna go. It was all dependent on Kolya's mood. The man wanted power. And McKay and his brain had directly challenged that in a way that Kolya couldn't retaliate against. The Genii had a sizable outpost here, Sheppard had seen a lot of it on his walk to the lab. There were a lot of people working there. And they couldn't all have warm and fuzzy feelings about turning their backs on the Genii empire that Cowen and his people had built in order to follow Kolya's agenda. Whatever that agenda actually was. For the people, they wanted a safer, bigger, badder Genii, and McKay's upgrades were how they would arrive there. That tied Kolya's hands. 

As much fun as it was to watch McKay put Kolya in a corner, it was dangerous to both of them. The psycho had to control _something_ , otherwise they were both dead.

So, with few options around it, John Sheppard allowed the Commander to control him. 

Maybe it was the lack of good drugs doing the thinking, but he knew how to be a soldier and he knew how to be a kiss-ass, and he figured a good little prisoner was somewhere in between. But John was a dead-man-walking. Kolya wasn't in it to see Lt. Colonel Sheppard salute at attention when he walked in the room. That wasn't control, _that_ was a threat.

So instead, when Kolya walked in the room, John flinched. If he raised his voice, John curled in on his injured shoulder. When an answer was expected of John, it was offered up quiet and prompt. Tapping into fear to let it show in his voice or on his face wasn't that hard; if Kolya didn't buy it, there was a very real fear that he would take it out on Rodney when he tossed John in an incinerator or a shallow grave. The stakes were clear enough and John didn't like them. The hard part was pain and pride and keeping focused enough to make his face do what he wanted it to do.

But he wasn't getting back to Atlantis any time soon, and he was two galaxies away from the military training that told him to fight back proud. Sheppard could swallow his damn pride and fall back on the acting skills he'd learned growing up a spoiled rich kid who had to blend in at parties. John could read a room and give people what they wanted. And Kolya wanted fear, power, and control. Already wrapped up in bloody, infected bandages and tied off with a chain-link bow, that wasn't exactly hard to deliver.

The hard part was keeping McKay from noticing.

The man was a goddamn genius, and it was complicated further by the fact that Kolya wasn't stupid either. It limited John's options when Rodney showed up for visits. Rodney expected John to be healing, to be getting better, and John had to show Kolya that he was broken. That was a fine line to tip-toe.

So when Rodney showed up, days after the visit in the lab, John sat up enough to show Rodney that he could, collected the man's hand in both of his, and then lay back down to curl up with it tucked to his chest. It kept John out of sight of the doorway, with Rodney as a shield, and it kept his friend leaned close so John could keep his voice quiet.

"I'm attempting to build them a decent computer," Rodney reported. "One at least somewhat compatible with ours. The power in this place is a problem, it takes forever to charge anything. I need something that can process, and I won't cannibalize ours for the project. It will take a while. They've got a machine shop working on things I ask for, off of my diagrams. But try to get these people to procure gold and silver for something other than uniform jewelry and they look at you like you're insane. I don't know if it will work."

"It's a bigger periodic table out here," John pointed out. "Maybe you could find something better."

"Sure, if I had nothing but time on my hands to search mineral classifications," said Rodney, scoffing. He frowned suddenly. "Or the library on Hoff. If I could get to that, _they_ probably have the work done already and just don't know it."

It surprised him that Rodney didn't default to thinking about the Ancient database back home, like John did. Atlantis would have given Rodney the answer in minutes. Hell, Rodney could have built something better than the SGC computers any time over the last few years, but life in the city had just never allowed the scientists there the luxury of building a better computer-mousetrap. And now here was Rodney, with nothing but time on his hands, trying to build that mousetrap for the Genii because he felt a deadline that didn't exist. Rodney was avoiding Atlantis.

John stayed quiet rather than point that out. Rodney wasn’t hurting for it. Maybe Kolya had given him a deadline, John had no way to know. He wouldn't ask. He just listened to Rodney's descriptions of his multiple projects, asked questions that wouldn't get either of them in trouble, and held on to his rambling friend like a lifeline.

Whenever he thought he heard Kolya in the other room, John closed his eyes, or pretended to, and Rodney didn't call him out for it if he noticed. The penned-in physicist just kept talking out loud at him, working through whatever mental puzzles he was stuck on that he felt required a verbal sounding board to let him work them through. John understood about eighty percent of what he said, and mentally pat himself on the back for keeping up enough to ask questions. 

"Dr. McKay, time to go," Kolya said, and John had no idea how long Rodney’s visits were capped off at. They had taken his watch weeks ago, so the visits and the nursing shift changes were the only clock he had. 

And that was how it went, for days, as John fought through fevers with antibiotics in an archaic IV pack setup, and all-over pain. He fended off dehydration with old fashioned pitchers of water that came with a nurse standing over him every hour making him drink, but he didn't talk to them unless he had to. 

Even Kolya's visits he suffered through without talking as much as possible. That one took work, because the man noticed the difference. Kolya decked him once during a visit, for the crime of responding to the nurse addressing him as _Colonel_ as she stood over him with a new IV pack. The medical staff stopped talking to him at all again after that, and Kolya was still allowed to show up and take over his isolation room despite their schedule. The Commander was an unstable tyrant, with rules that changed with his mood, and keeping up to avoid the random backhand was actually a lot of work. At every visit, Kolya saw John flinch when he walked in, and it took him a few days to believe it. 

"What is this?" Kolya finally asked. John just moved to sit on the edge of the bed and tried to keep his back away from Kolya. He hadn’t been given a shirt since he bled through the first one and the Commander would take any excuse he could to reopen wounds, even if that excuse was that he saw it in easy reach. John kept his eyes averted enough to keep Kolya in sight without looking at him. When Kolya pulled the chair up, John cringed but stayed where he was.

"Come now, Sheppard. After all this, is that fear I see?" Kolya sat down on the edge of the chair and leaned forward to put himself in Sheppard’s sight-line. "Since when do you have nothing to say?"

John waited it out, hesitation plain, as he tried to determine how rhetorical the taunt really was. "Nuthin to say."

Kolya weighed it out, staring at him intently. "I've had you here two weeks. That's all. You expect me to believe this of you?"

"I'm no genius, but I can learn," John replied. "Wounds won't heal if I don't learn. This isn't how I wanna go out."

Kolya reached for his arm suddenly and the flinch and brief evade wasn't an act. Sheppard went still as the Commander squeezed his arm just below the shoulder that refused to heal. John cringed into it, trying to do the opposite of fight the pain so it would stop sooner.

"I decide how you go out, Sheppard," Kolya reminded him. John nodded quickly.

"Yessir," he said quickly, voice more like a grunt from the very real pain.

Kolya was close then. He could have fought back. John had three inches of chain between his wrists and easy access to the man's throat. But he wasn’t strong enough yet. The stripes on his back would rip open in a fight. John made himself cave to the pain and let the Commander twist and press into muscles that weren't healing right rather than try it. This was the plan. It was a shitty plan. But it was the only one John had.

And it worked. Kolya let him go, even if he didn't back off, and John slumped to the side to belatedly protect his shoulder. 

"Interesting," was all Kolya said for a few long moments. John stared at the floor, his eyes stinging from tears, and he blinked them out, wiped them away with the back of his hand. And Kolya watched.

"For a scientist, you do this?" Kolya asked. John huffed a dry laugh, breath caught on the question. 

" _This_ hurts," he said, attempting to correct the record. "I just want it to stop. And you're not going to put a bullet between my eyes until the _scientist_ is done playing traitor. I'm out of options."

Kolya laughed at that. "You call him a traitor and let him kiss your face?"

"Your rules are not his fault," John returned, the anger finally sneaking out. Kolya heard it and leaned forward again, catching John's chin to make him meet his eyes. John had to remind himself of the fear and allowed it.

"You cost me eighty men, since we met, Sheppard. Eighty souls under my command. You killed them. You do _not_ deserve our care. But you do not deserve an easy death, either. The only reason you are not suffering in a cell is your _traitor_."

John nodded just slightly against the man's hand. "Yessir."

Kolya's grip shifted angrily, prying at Sheppard's jaw the same way he had his arm. John had to hold his mouth open slightly and follow where he was dragged, his head shoved toward the bed to push him down. Kolya let go then, and stood up over him. John cringed, working quickly to sit up without injuring his back as he tried to ignore the pain in his jaw. But Kolya didn't go after him again. He just moved the chair back out of Sheppard's reach.

Kolya left then. And he didn't call bullshit when Sheppard showed fear. But the anger stuck around every time he checked in on John's healing progress, or every time he came back after John met with Rodney. It took everything in him for John to stay pliant when the man grabbed him or touched him, but he did it. 

Rodney's visits got longer, and a few days later started to coincide with dinner deliveries. They both were getting scruffy, John's hair too long, and Rodney kept forgetting to shave even though John knew he had a razor in his pack from Atlantis. John hadn't been able to shave in weeks, though one of the nurses did it for him a few days earlier. Rodney made a comment about the scruff and John shrugged it off.

"Check a mirror lately, buddy?" he replied instead. "You’re achieving a new level of mad-scientist."

"I'm a little busy," Rodney defended, half heartedly about it. He got distracted by the shackles at John's wrists. There were calluses there now, healed over raw skin from the regular rubbing of the cuffs and the weight of the chain. 

It had been over a week since John had last wandered out of his little room in the infirmary and that meant he could only take walks at the end of the heavy chain attached to the bed platform, and it had left a mark. Rodney stuck his fingers under the shackles, as much as he could fit them, like he could protect John from the imprints. John grinned oddly at it, because Rodney seemed to forget that protecting one side meant pulling into the other. But the metal cuffs were an inch wide, and loose enough to move around a few inches, so they didn't hurt.

"Don't worry about it," John said, quiet.

"I'm-" Rodney floundered and shook his head. "Don't tell me what to do," he said instead. John shrugged it off and moved his empty food bowl to the floor, then pulled back enough to lay down. If Rodney was going to get cranky at him, he was going to pretend to sleep through it. It had been three weeks since they had seen anyone friendly other than each other and John was too desperate for that connection to home to let it get burned by Rodney's temper hitting his own.

"There's nothing to do about it until I'm back in the cells, that's all," John said. He closed his eyes enough to fake it and rubbed his thumb over the back of Rodney's hand. Rodney set his arm along the bed in front of him and lay his head down.

"What are you working on?" John prompted.

"Same as yesterday," Rodney replied. "And the day before that."

Computer. Nukes. Electrical upgrades. Convincing the Genii to invent plastic. Writing down everything in notebooks with shitty pens and giving himself carpal tunnel syndrome switching back and forth with the laptops and tablets.

"By the way, it took me thirty seconds to get your password on your tablet. _Ferriswheels_ is _not_ a secure password when you quite literally tell everyone we meet what it is," Rodney pointed out. John scoffed.

"All I use it for is golf and chess."

"Hello! Network protection-"

"Everyone in the city has their own tablet, Rodney," John said, only mildly defensive. Rodney still went strangely quiet.

"I miss the city," he finally said. A half-crazed bark of a laugh escaped from John then. 

"I miss _everything_ ," he replied when he got it stomped back down. "I miss my clothes. I miss the bathroom. I miss my team..."

"'m sorry," said Rodney, mumbling and sounding very Canadian. It wasn’t like John could fix anything, either. But it hurt to hear. He tugged at Rodney’s hand as he edged back on the bed to make room. 

"C'mere, McKay," John said, quiet. Rodney surprisingly didn't complain or question. He climbed up on the narrow bed and stretched out next to John. He did make confused noises when John snuck his arm down to fit between Rodney’s shoulder and the pillow, and bossed Rodney’s arm up for a few seconds so that John could get his other arm, the busted one, looped over Rodney’s ribs. They could just ignore the handcuffs pinning Rodney to him for a while and hug it out. John tugged Rodney back against his chest and hid behind him, his forehead tucked to the back of Rodney’s neck. Rodney trapped his arm under his and laced their fingers together.

"Think they'll let me sleep in here?" Rodney asked after a few minutes of quiet. "This is more comfortable than the bench."

"Doubtful," John replied, mumbled into his shoulder. Things went comfortably quiet again for a few minutes. It was the safest John had felt in weeks, and he could feel the tension leave Rodney, too. It was stupid and simple, but it worked. John was almost nearly asleep when Rodney pulled him back to awareness.

"Is this something we should think about?" Rodney asked. He tugged at John's hand where he held it over his chest. John held their hands still and shook his head lightly against Rodney’s shoulder.

"Nope," he replied. "Don't wanna."

"Is that a good thing?" 

"Probably." John defined a _good thing_ as anything that let him continue to curl up around his friend and know they were both safe for a while and that was as far as he would let himself chase the thought. Rodney stayed relaxed into the backwards hug and didn't let go of his hand. And they both fell asleep that way, for who knew how long.

Kolya woke them by turning on the lights in the room, lights that John had been too deep asleep to notice had been turned off. "Dr. McKay. You have your own room."

Rodney startled awake and John only just barely managed to hold him in place before he tried sitting up; he would have taken John's shoulder with him and neither of them would have enjoyed it. Carefully, John untangled himself and his leash from Rodney’s person to let him sit up. Rodney moved sluggishly to the edge of the bed and stood up to leave. John was thankful his friend was aware enough to recognize Kolya was the one watching them and didn't stop to say his usual goodbye rituals.

John wanted Kolya to go away when he took Rodney away, but the man wasn't that kind. He saw Rodney and his guards to the infirmary doors and then came back to get in John's face. Literally. John had moved to sit on the edge of the bed when Rodney left, and Kolya walked right up and grabbed him by the jaw.

"What was that?" he demanded. John couldn't exactly reply without the use of his jaw so he had to wait it out. The man's hand shifted to his neck and John figured that was the only invitation he would get.

"He was panicking. He misses home. I calmed him down," he said, words quick while he could still breathe. Kolya judged the response silently, staring at him, anger in his eyes. Then he used the hold on his neck to push Sheppard sideways to the bed, and John panicked himself, raising his hands to tug at Kolya's arm. 

"Don't abuse what freedom you have or I assure you, you will lose it," the Commander said, more of a growl than an order. John tried to nod and breathe at the same time. Wasn’t having that much luck with it, actually. 

"Yessir," he managed. And that seemed to work. Kolya let him go. Then the Commander hit the lights again on his way out the door. John curled up and tried to get his throat to coordinate breathing with his lungs again. It took a few minutes, but the nurse and doctor came in to check on him eventually. The doctor did a lot of swearing but he seemed to think John would survive.

"No more talking. And leave your neck alone. Just lay still and sleep," he ordered. John didn't argue. And he got hooked up to another IV, supposedly for antibiotics again, but John soon felt the dry, crackly headache feeling he got when they used their version of a sedative on him. _Whatever_. He was going to sleep anyway.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

It took three days for all the tests to come back absolutely certain. According to Dr. Beckett’s uneasy report, the bodies they had found with Colonel Sheppard’s gear were not their teammates. Ronon took the dog tags from Carson’s hand when he tried to hand them over the desk to Elizabeth. 

"I told you. He's still alive. You don't get these yet," Ronon said firmly. Teyla, in turn, took the necklace from Ronon, again a distraction for him from the intense anger he was threatening to aim at their friends. She didn't fully understand the metal disks, but she knew they were important to John, and that Ronon had his own version that he held dear.

"Then until he is found, they will still feel a heartbeat," she decided for them. Ronon accepted it, though Elizabeth looked uncertain. 

"We've had a team scanning the planet for two days," she reminded them. "Zelenka pulled the last fifty 'gate addresses. And I'm at a stalemate with Chief Cowen. He says he hasn't had contact with their outpost on that planet in over a year. He made the offer to search his city, but we already know the radiation of that area interferes with our sensors. I sent a Jumper anyway with orders to be discreet but if this was really the Genii, and they killed two of their own? It could be giving the chief one of our teams. And the alliance is not that strong under the best of circumstances."

"Then we'll go," said Ronon. "Teyla and I aren't you. We can look."

"I am not welcome in Chief Cowen's city," said Teyla, shaking her head.

"What about the other one then? Get him to tell us where the outpost is and we'll knock on their door." Ronon crossed his arms. He would knock on the door only to knock it in. Teyla looked over at Elizabeth. The Director was shaking her head.

"I tried that. He wouldn't disclose the location. That's why Lorne is still looking," she told them.

"Put me on that planet. I'll talk to Cowen," said Ronon. 

"Ronon, I understand your position," said Weir. "And if I thought it would yield the results we want, I would. But the fact is we don't know they're still on that planet. They could be at any Genii outpost in all of Pegasus. And we can't search them all. The Genii have access to simple manpower we do not. We can't handle this attack with a blunt or military solution. I will have to work with the Chief and his people to negotiate. _Carefully_. Without giving him more leverage than he already has. Because yes, I do believe he is lying every time I talk to him. Even if he did give us exact coordinates to the outpost, I wouldn't trust them. But until we have something to work with, he wins the day."

"But Sheppard-"

"Sheppard’s _not_ dead or we would have found _his_ body instead of a costumed Genii," interrupted Elizabeth. "And as much as I don't like it, it buys us _and them_ time."

Teyla frowned, looking between her friends' faces. "So we need to find something the Genii want that is within the purview of our existing treaty."

Elizabeth sighed and nodded, her hand going to her forehead to knead at a headache. "Precisely. Weapons. Explosives. Medicines. Something more than we already agreed to that baits the hook enough for Cowen to let us in."

Carson frowned. "Their medical services are competent enough. I don't see how-" The doctor broke off and went pale. Then he shook his head. "I have nothing to offer."

"What?" Elizabeth asked, her hands folding over her desk. 

"You could perhaps discuss options with Dr. Spencer," Carson said, uncomfortable. Elizabeth tilted her head.

"Dr. Spencer. In virology?" she asked. Carson nodded. Elizabeth went still, considering the doctor in the room. She pursed her lips.

"Dr. Beckett, I think you've been awake too long. Take a day off," she said. She stood up. "I'll keep you all informed of how things progress with Cowen. But for now, this is tabled until we have new information. Just please rest assured Atlantis isn't giving up on Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay."

Toying with the foreign necklace she had stolen from Ronon, Teyla studied her friend across the desk. The fire had returned to Elizabeth’s expression. And when that shine was there, Teyla knew, the Atlantis expedition Director could get as determined and dangerous as Ronon in her own ways. Teyla nodded her approval and decided to go meditate on the dog tags.

* * *

Rodney wasn’t allowed back to visit Sheppard for two days. He asked when dinner was brought to him and was told the trip to the infirmary wasn't scheduled. He still worked. Maybe the rules would get bent and he could ask after dinner... but the question went ignored when the soldiers retrieved the dinnerware. He started to get distracted and eventually fell asleep in front of the laptop, drooled on the desk and everything. That was great.

From his chair at the desk, Rodney eyed the padded bench across the room that served as his bed, complete with the magic black lines on the floor around it. They had been there when Rodney had been moved into the new lab, and the only apparent purpose was a visual boundary to keep someone sitting down. It was annoying because the only possible reason for that would have been visits from John and that obviously wasn't working out. At least, not until he was better than a pale ghost leaving a trail of blood wherever he went. Maybe falling asleep in the uncomfortable rolling chair wasn't that bad.

Reluctantly Rodney gave up and went to crash on the bench. The lab didn't get dark exactly, it just dimmed because of the hall lights outside the windows. He lived in a fishbowl and slept on a padded log and it offended him as much as it hurt his back every night. The guards peeked in on their rounds when the lights were out, like they somehow expected he had escaped through the cracks under the door or something. There was nothing comfortable about the arrangement, physically or mentally, not even sleep.

The memory of stretching out to sleep with John curled around him showed up when he tried to settle in. He had been comfortable there. The bed was lumpy but it was warm and better than a padded bench. And John at his back was better than a cold concrete wall. There hadn't been much room for negotiation in the narrow space on the bed and Rodney remembered easily the feel of the body he had been tucked in against. He missed it. He tried to convince himself he missed his friend's presence and it was all that innocent as he curled up under the emergency blanket from one of the packs. 

His mind wasn't that kind as he slept, however. Rodney had been riding weeks of nightmares at that point, never really sleeping more than dozing because of either the bench or his dreams. He went from nightmares about watching his friends suffer, to watching the walls of Atlantis shake and shatter and flood, computer consoles blowing up, laptops melting into radioactive goo, to choking on air. 

And now he dreamed about the healthy John Sheppard he hadn't seen in almost a month, the one who smelled like rain and gunpowder and sweat and the stupid grass he was always chewing on whenever they went off world somewhere with sunshine and thank god he had run out of that stupid aftershave. There were shadows of feeling with the man's hands on his chest and stomach and lower like it was a lazy Sunday and they didn't have anywhere to be and they didn't live in glass rooms surrounded by soldiers. And Rodney woke himself up in a worse sweat than he ever did from the nightmares and stumbled to the bathroom to talk himself down from some kind of panic. It wasn't fair.

The next day was when he worried more than worked. He couldn't focus, even after eating lunch. The nausea stress-reaction came back, when he thought he had been free of that for over a week. He didn't get much of anything done that day, talked to no one at all except himself, and he definitely noticed when they brought him dinner again, no Sheppard-visit attached.

Kolya showed up the next morning. "You’re not working."

Rodney held up the notebook in front of him. "I _am_ working," he replied, frustrated. "But I am _distracted_. I want to see Sheppard so I know he's okay. This would all be easier if I could just have him in here. I could focus. I need someone intelligent to talk to, I need a white board to work these things through. You're demanding I reprogram thirty years of muscle-memory at the same time as everything else. It's slowing me down. And you're doing it on purpose when I have given you every proof that it is entirely unnecessary."

Rodney stopped ranting when he realized he was ranting at the man who would accept nearly any excuse to kill his friend. He put his pen down and made himself look over at Kolya. "Sorry. I'm just being honest. That's... well, that's how science works. You either state the facts or you prove them wrong. We've been at this for weeks. The facts haven't changed."

The Commander moved into the room, hardly a yard from where Rodney stood, and crossed his arms. "I have offered you access to our scientists-"

Rodney shook his head. "Yes, but they don't have my knowledge or frame of reference, and I'd spend all of my time explaining everything to- to- ten year olds! That is how far behind some of their thinking is! You are an advanced civilization, yes, but to catch you up, it feels like it requires reinventing the wheel. And this... is, frankly, stupid."

"Sheppard won't fix these problems for you, Dr. McKay."

"Maybe two or four of them," Rodney replied, his hand flopping meekly onto his notebook. "The big ones. Like not worrying someone's being hurt because of me, _that's_ a big one."

Kolya tilted his head. "You know, neither of you have asked after the rest of your team since the first day. Two of them. What was it, Teyla, and Dex."

Rodney’s eyes went wide. He had thought they had gotten away, that was why he had never asked. He didn't want to start a search, didn't want to ask when it might get them time to get help if he didn't. But it had been _weeks_.

"They- they got out, at the 'gate," Rodney said, just to tell himself it was true. Kolya smiled, mild and tolerant, and shook his head once.

"No, Dr. McKay. They did not. But I am not stupid enough to leave any of you near the others," said the Commander. 

"Well, can I see them? Either of them?" He wasn't fussy, he just wanted proof. But he wasn’t stupid enough to ask for it in case Kolya twisted it up into an excuse to start chopping off fingers or ears.

"Given your attachment to Sheppard, I don't think that is wise. You have a hard enough time concentrating now," replied Kolya. 

"Well, that's the whole point, isn't it?" Rodney blurted out, beyond confused now. "That was why you hurt him. That was what he's here for. I'm attached. I'll work. I work for you so I can keep him. That's what you said, that's what I'm doing. And now you're saying it's a problem? How- what- what exactly am I supposed to do, here?"

"Your problem is Sheppard. You will work. He will lie. And he will ruin your work," said Kolya. 

"No, he won't," Rodney said, recoiling slightly from the asinine suggestion. "He wouldn't _touch_ my work. Aside from the fact that he knows then _I'd_ kill him, he understands that my work is in his own best interests."

"He knows you're a traitor to Atlantis for working with us," corrected Kolya. 

That hit a little hard and Rodney didn't have an argument immediately at hand against it. Other than the fact that John had _asked him_ to do what he was doing for the Genii, and Rodney wouldn’t be sharing _that_ with Kolya until the day he wanted to take a bullet to the brain. It would be too hard to convince the bastard that the work Rodney had already completed was valid if Kolya thought John had anything to do with it. 

And that was the problem, Rodney realized, with asking for John's help. Kolya wouldn't trust it even if Rodney personally handed him an already completed A-bomb. McKay was so tired of the circuit he was stuck in and it wore at him. But then again, maybe that was sleeping on a padded bench.

"I- look, this stuff you're asking for is... it's just bringing you up a few steps. It's not- I'm not a _traitor_. I'm not taking aim at Atlantis," Rodney finally managed. It was hard to get to but he could rationalize it. "And without the 'gate, I'm stuck here, too, aren't I? If the Wraith figure out your game down here, they get me along with everyone else. And until your nuclear program is fixed, you're just sending up a big ol' smoke signal for any Wraith with a sensor array that can reach the surface. Nothing is shielded, everything is leaking, they're going to know you're here from following the most basic energy signature. _We_ did. If I'm stuck _living_ here, it has to be safe. For _me_."

Kolya stared at him, studying him, and Rodney knew this was some kind of passive interrogation. He just didn't know what else the man wanted from him that he hadn't already provided, so he didn't know what to offer next. Rodney had no leverage, he just had a bench to sleep on and some computers he could hardly keep charged. He thought he could keep John alive, if he worked hard enough, but he was realizing that wasn't going to happen. There were too many variables in this game. And Kolya had just casually tossed Ronon and Teyla in to make it all more confusing.

Rodney was tired and getting angry at being watched, in that moment and always, and he was frustrated. He waved toward the bench across the room. "Look, can I at least get a decent bed? If nothing else."

Kolya suddenly smiled and patted Rodney’s shoulder like they were friends. "Do your work, Dr. McKay. Focus."

"What-" Mouth hanging open like a codfish, Rodney stared as the man disappeared out the hallway door. "What just happened?"

It hit Rodney square in the paranoia. He got absolutely nothing productive done for hours after that visit, instead making diagrams of bad ideas on a tablet where he could erase the data at a moment's notice, because he couldn't figure out which bad idea had somehow been put into play to result in the entire interaction. When dinner was brought in, it distracted him from the odd meeting and Rodney managed a few hours of work before making himself sleep on the annoying bench again with his jacket stuffed in an empty backpack as a pillow and hiding under one of their emergency blankets. Just as he had done every night for _weeks_. 

* * *

If it hadn't been for the nice new bruises, the Genii doc probably would have been satisfied with John's progress enough to let Kolya take him out of the infirmary for day trips without a fuss. But there was a fuss in the end. Not that either Kolya or the doc cared about the actual leftover pain from the effort at crushing Sheppard’s neck, they just had different opinions on the proper storage and maintenance of the hostage. 

If he weren't sick of it after three weeks, John supposed he should have been flattered that he was the hostage of an _entire city_ , not just of their sadistic asshole military commander. That seemed more friendly in general, all those people thinking so highly of him. Mostly of Rodney. But McKay wasn't there to witness the argument between the doctor and the Commander, and John wouldn't be telling him about it. 

It was hard to tell who won, exactly, when Kolya punched the doctor in the face, shoved him against the desk to _thunk_ his head against the nearest wall, and then turned on his heel and left the infirmary. Leaving John in his isolation room, sitting on his bed, still uncertain if it was back to the cells or not yet. He sure as hell didn't see the doc again that day. Kolya came back a few hours later though, not looking happy about it, but noticeably not smiling either as he collected Sheppard.

John could stand up straight again - couldn't _talk_ great at the moment, but he could _walk_ \- and the last report he had heard the nurses give at shift change was that the skin on his back had finally started to heal, as long as he didn't rip it. They no longer wrapped him up in bandages, but they hadn't given him his shirt back, either, to avoid the laundry hassle. The Genii bunker may have been straight out of Rodney’s radiation nightmares, but it was still damp and cold, and add that to the infection in his shoulder, and John in general wasn't a fan of his overall situation. But he left when they told him to.

Once again he got the walk through the hundred-year old tunnels with their drippy walls, and he thought it was maybe in the right direction to be headed for the area where Rodney’s lab had been. But they got to a fork in the road and went left when John was sure they should have gone right. The fact that he had been hopeful for the potential safe destination was probably laughable, considering Kolya had put his own chief medical staff in the infirmary just to get John out of it. John kept up with Kolya and the guards but tried to keep his head down. 

Now that the irrational hope had been snuffed out, John expected the cells again. He could live with bars. They could lock him up and throw away the key and he could make friends with the bugs again, maybe get one to bite him and see what happened. John had no real plans to work with, other than play up the fear, pretend he was broken, and look for opportunities to prove otherwise. What Sheppard hadn’t been expecting was to walk through a door into a small... apartment? 

Oh shit. What fresh hell was this?

Sheppard stood in the doorway between the two guards, motionless as he watched Kolya walk a step into the room to hold open the door. Like some kind of host or hotel bellhop. It was just a well lit, square room, with a bed and a desk, and a door at the back. Nothing at all fancy, dirty rust-red walls that could require a tetanus shot just for looking at them, and a bed that looked exactly like the one he had just left. He preferred to not be in the same space as Kolya and flat surfaces, so John stayed by the hall, expecting to be taken to the cells. 

"In," ordered Kolya. He reached back and caught the chain between Sheppard’s wrists. "Welcome to your home until I put a bullet in your skull."

John stumbled in, putting a few extra steps between himself and Kolya. "Do we have an ETA on that yet?"

"Longer than I would like. For now, this will do," said the Commander. He jerked on the shackles and pulled Sheppard along to the bed and John noticed the chain as he picked it up. He had just traded cells for the claustrophobic kind, he realized as the lock was closed to put him back on the metal-link leash. Sheppard was so tired of the metal leash he was all but shaking as it was reintroduced in this much different, much more dangerous environment. He set his jaw and stared at the simple desk with its one chair, both very much out of reach suddenly. He shifted focus slightly when Kolya stepped back into his space.

"No more messing with my people. And if you interfere with McKay and his ability to work any further, you start losing appendages you hold vital. Am I clear?" the Commander said. John did glance over at his face then, somehow needing to verify that the threat was real. Of course it was real. He nodded.

Kolya yanked the lead and John stumbled to the bed where he was told, cringing as Kolya grabbed him by the shaggy hair to make him sit. The timid fear plan was threatened by the anger bubbling up and John was seconds from trying to put himself back in the infirmary, but Kolya released him without further assault. The Commander left the room then, the guards also disappearing. The light thankfully stayed on, and John realized the solid metal door had no handle on the inside. No knob or lock. Just a steel panel with corroded edges.

This was definitely not an improvement of his situation. 

John reluctantly stayed where he was, seated on the edge of the bed, and looked around the room. Thankfully the Genii weren't advanced enough for monitoring the small space. Their cameras would still take up a quarter of the room, so he wasn't worried about being watched. Sound was a possibility. He didn't know. 

Curious, Sheppard stood up and tested the lead. It was maybe five feet, same as the last one, and mounted to a bolt in the wall behind the bed. But it stopped just short of letting him reach either of the doors in the room. The door at the back was eight feet away, while the door out into the hall maybe only six. John could lean against the big metal door, could have kicked it if he'd still had his hard-sole boots, but he couldn't get his hands near it. He had a bed to sit on, and two doors that mocked him, and that was it. Hopefully they remembered to feed him. John wasn't going to bet on it though.

He paced a few times, just to figure out what kind of room he had to move. And to stretch without someone watching him. It was cold and damp and he was going to have to figure out something. The knife wound in his shoulder hadn't done him any favors, and the fact that it didn't want to heal limited him on what he could do for exercise to start getting strength back. The doctor had apparently lost the battle on keeping him any kind of medicated to fight the infection if he was locked up so far away from the infirmary this time, so hopefully the shoulder was further along toward healed than it felt.

John was trapped in a waiting game, the slow race to see if he could heal before he either wasted away or Kolya finally put him down. Either was welcome at this point. He dropped to the bed and curled onto his side to stare at the back of the door. It wasn’t very interesting on the whole, but watching the rust spread was enough to put him to sleep.

* * *

Another day passed with a brain busy worrying and Rodney was increasingly frustrated, though it was at least partly with himself. He couldn't focus. His brain was clouded and every thought derailed before it hit any conclusion, and every time it did, he remembered it had been three days since he had seen John, and over three weeks since he had seen Teyla and Ronon. And on the heels of that was the memory that the 'gate was shattered and they were all stranded. Not far from those clear lines of stress was the anxious knot in his stomach and, while he didn't have to run for the bathroom every time, his hands had started shaking. That was a distraction all its own and a new level of annoying.

He startled when the door opened, then glanced at his watch as an afterthought as the guard walked in. Dinner then. Fine. He didn't look up, just kept trying to work on his written notes explaining to the morons he worked for how and why they needed to install Geiger counters around the underground city he was trapped in. 

"Dr. McKay. You're done for the day," said Commander Kolya from just inside the door. "Leave your things."

Rodney looked up at him, stalled by surprise. "I'm clearly in the middle of something."

"Bring the book then. Everything else stays," Kolya said. 

Rodney frowned at him for it but shut down the laptop next to him. He grabbed the stack of notebooks he was working with and shoved pens in his pocket before standing. He hadn't had a working-lunch in ages, maybe he could work one in here. "Fine."

Kolya stopped him at the door and took the pens from his pocket, investigating them and then the notebooks. He shook them out and flipped through the pages, making sure there was writing on them, because obviously notebooks were dangerous. He gave them back as Rodney glared, then waved him out to the hall. 

It was no surprise when they walked past the turn that would have taken them to the infirmary. McKay didn't ask about John, only forty percent certain now that the Colonel was even still alive. He didn't ask when there was no way for him to confirm any response wasn't a lie. If he didn't ask, he wouldn't be told the man was dead, and he wouldn't have to worry if it was true. Schrodinger's Sheppard. 

Instead he followed them to what seemed like a sort of residential area, hallways tucked off behind more doors and the lights kept lower as they got further away from the mechanical sounds of the city's industrial areas. Rodney’s annoyance had faded off to curiosity, however, and there was a healthy dose of caution backing it up. Kolya had let him bring his notes, and said he was done for the _day_ , so when added to their bizarre visit the morning previous, Rodney wondered idly if Kolya was going to allow him something better than a bench finally. A solid night's sleep would probably help, but Rodney wasn’t getting his hopes up for it. He wasn't sure what to expect.

Kolya stopped him a step away from a door and one of the guards moved quickly to unlock it. Rodney didn't move, the Commander's hand still locked around his arm.

"You asked for a bed. We can provide a bed for your services, Dr. McKay," said Kolya. He waved a hand toward the door and the guard stepped in to open it. Wide eyed, Rodney actually relaxed when Kolya let go of him, pushed him toward the door.

"Thank god," he muttered, taking a deep breath. 

That breath was kicked right out of him when he walked around the corner to duck past the soldier into the room to see John Sheppard sitting slouched on the edge of the promised bed. The man looked sleepy-eyed and rough, and he'd had a shave since Rodney had seen him last. And a wide band of bruising around his neck.

Rodney turned to the door, intended to demand to know what had happened, but the soldier at the door distracted him by moving past him, keys still out. Rodney watched as John was unlocked from the chain latched to the wall.

"What-" Rodney spluttered. John shrugged at him as the soldier retreated to the hallway. The door swung closed without Rodney managing another word, because his inclination was to yell, and it likely would have gone poorly. Instead he looked back at John.

"Are you okay?" he asked, feeling stupid. Of course he wasn’t, Rodney wasn’t, but that was the state of his existence now. John nodded. Rodney blinked at him. "Can you talk?"

"Yeah," said Sheppard. He lifted his hand half heartedly to motion toward the bruising that Rodney was worried about. "This is probably a few days old."

"I saw you three days ago," said Rodney. John shrugged and huffed a laugh.

"It's been a long three days then," he said. His voice sounded raw, raspier than usual. But when the door had closed, John had sat up a little taller and he looked up at Rodney directly, making a very different impression. It was welcome, but it confused Rodney. He moved to sit next to John. He still carried the notebooks, but he forgot about them until John took one of them from him. 

"You’re supposed to _sleep_ off-hours," John said. "Not do homework. Pretty sure we talked about this."

"I thought I was going to dinner."

"Dinner would have been better. But you're still supposed to _eat_ at dinner."

"This, I can do both." Rodney waved the stack of notebooks idly. He watched as John snooped on the technical manual he was writing for the Genii. "I haven't been focusing. Thought the distraction would help."

John nodded acceptance of the logic. "You’re stuck?"

"No. I mean, maybe. But no. He told me Ronon and Teyla are here. And he wouldn't let me see any of you."

John shook his head and closed the book, straightening up tall and stiff. "He doesn't have them."

"We don't know that," replied Rodney. 

"If he did, he would have brought them out while I was down. One of us would have seen them. He's just using me because I'm here, so if he had two more, he would be doing the same thing with them. As fast as I went down, he would have just killed me at the start and worked it out on the extras," said John. Matter of fact and sober, like it was procedure to be expected.

Rodney felt nauseous all over again at the realization that he could have been dealing with the responsibility of all three of his friends' lives and well-being. And the relief that it was _at least_ only down to John was its own guilt-ridden stress and Rodney's stomach twisted and roiled and lurched toward his throat. He stood up to move, putting the notebooks over on the desk and dumping his jacket on the desk as well. John watched him a moment before thumbing toward the door across the room behind him.

"Think that's probably a bathroom," he said. Rodney blinked at the door he hadn't noticed until then and then headed for it. Rodney promptly lost his lunch in the archaic toilet with the water tank mounted four feet up along the wall and the pull-chain flush that smacked him in the head. It swung around and smacked him again when he stood up, which added to the disorientation but Rodney found the sink and leaned over it with the water running. He was used to the little water closets now, and used to the routine with the anxiety when it hit him. He waited until he was sure the water ran clear before he rinsed his mouth free of the bile taste. He washed his face and leaned over the pedestal sink, avoiding the small round-framed mirror hung on the wall.

It still took him a few minutes before he could go out to face John again. When he did, the man was still seated exactly where Rodney had left him, the notebook in his hands flapping idly as he stared at the door a few feet away. Rodney noticed the distinct lack of a door handle and felt the distance to the walls suddenly shrink. It stopped when he sat down though.

"Sorry," said John. "I should'a phrased that differently."

"Don't," replied Rodney quickly. He was almost angry; how dare he apologize for any of it.

"Don't care what he tells you. It's not your fault, Rodney. Stop taking it," John told him. It was an order, even, but Rodney didn't have to listen to those.

"I didn't go to school for this. Any of it. I may be an ass who- who yells and scares the idiots I work with, but I didn't learn to use my brain just so it could be used to hurt people," Rodney said. "This... was never a consideration. I don't know what to do."

John shrugged, bumped his shoulder - the one that wasn't still messed up from a one-sided knife-fight - against Rodney’s. "Do what you know and keep the guy happy. Doesn't make any sense to have gotten this far and fuck it up. The faster you blow through the list, the sooner you get home. Or drag it out, bring them up to the modern age, buy more time. You can go native if they never let you touch the 'gate. Might as well make the society something you can tolerate if they're going to let you."

Rodney stared at him, the anger still right there. "Fuck you, John. You’re not dead yet."

John looked up at him. "Nope. But until I have more options, I'm not going anywhere. There's not much I can do from in here. Or the infirmary. Or the cells. Give me another month and a knife and the story could change. But right now? I have one function, Rodney. That's it."

"What function?"

"Buy you time. Keep you going."

"That's two."

"I am forever impressed by your superior math-brain, McKay. Truly."

Rodney was having a hard time focusing and meeting his friend eye to eye but John watched his face anyway, and he was smiling somewhat. He bumped Rodney’s shoulder again. "Look. We can't help anybody else right now. It's just us until we get to the other side. Whenever that is. I think if you can work with a bunch of kids, you can figure out how to keep the Genii happy. Technically we're allies anyway. This bastard just found himself a loophole."

"What-"

John shrugged. "No 'gate, no checking in. No insubordination on his part."

That wasn't actually a loophole, it was a bullshit excuse, and it wouldn't appease any General at the SGC or beyond. But Sheppard wasn't known for catering to the chain of command. And so far, neither was Kolya. And Rodney’s work for the Genii would more than make up for whatever rules Kolya broke to make him help them.

"Acts of war in the Milky Way are just politics in Pegasus," Rodney said. John nodded.

"Just politics," he said. "Many, _many_ bloodsucking ticks."

There was a pause and Rodney squinted at the wall as he processed the pun. He finally glanced at John. "You read Pratchett?"

"Excuse me?" Like an idiot, John just blinked at him. He had no idea what Rodney was asking about and Rodney gave up then. 

"Pratchett. The writer Terry Pratchett," he said. He waved to dismiss it as John shrugged at him.

"MENSA dropout. Why would I read books? I can just wait for the movies," the man said. Rodney stared at him, somehow more annoyed in general at the offensive bullshit that had just fallen from John’s mouth.

"That's criminal,” he said, very much feeling it. “I hate you. For everything. In _two_ galaxies."

John acknowledged the hyperbole with a somber nod. "I know."

"Good." Rodney wasn’t in a mood to tolerate more stupid than was already built in to his life in that moment, humor or not. He dropped his gaze to the book in John's hand. The smug grin faded, John offered the book over to him, like he had to provide some kind of peace offering.

"I've been here before," he said, still trying to convince Rodney everything would be okay. "Or close enough. Cage is just bigger."

Rodney took it back. "I haven't."

"Pretend you have."

"Excuse me?"

John stared back at him and shrugged. "It's a different contract. Different lab. No morons to yell at."

" _You_ are not a contract."

John looked at the ground then and seemed to have run out of ways to justify his own abuse. The small room went silent. Rodney looked over at the small table and the notebooks there, thought about the consequences of ripping them up and flushing them. He was tired. And he was angry. And every time he saw Sheppard there was a new problem he couldn't fix. On top of a lab full of them, with none of the proper resources to address them.

"I'm not a machine. This... isn't how this works. Believe it or not, the human brain isn't a computer. There's no switch to flip and turn off the annoying, worthless, miserable side effects of fear and-and-and emotions and hunger and stress. Three weeks- that's a record. For me. Three weeks of crisis and adrenaline and- I can't."

The flood of words was the only energy Rodney had as he sat beside John and stared at the door with the hidden hinges and the missing doorknob. The holes where the knob had been once were now welded over, probably recent because there were splotches that hadn't been painted. He felt the panic trembling in his arms and felt the tightness in his chest. It hadn't gone away when he had thrown up his lunch, Rodney had just gotten better at holding it off over the last few weeks of living in a near constant state of it. He had never had anyone to verbalize any of it to, though, as the panic just moved in and lived there for weeks. And now it was a broken dam. 

"I can't think anymore. Two days now. There's a limit. I burned up. And I can't think of anything except that it's gone and going to fail. And then I can't fix it anymore. And what do I do then? Then you die. And I'll have to see it and I still - That's the deal, isn't it? _What_ they want, _when_ they want it, think it out, plan it out... Show the monkeys how to make fire, and move on to the next one. It's going to _break_. And you're _already_ broken and I can't fix it."

John startled him then when he stood up and pulled Rodney’s arm to push him up with him. Like they could go somewhere. Like moving did any good in a room hardly ten-by-fifteen with shrinking walls. But Rodney got to his feet and let John grab at his wrists, and he stared at John's wrists in the loose shackles. 

"Teyla thing," John said, a rasped out order that Rodney barely followed on autopilot. He was still breathing and that had taken most of his effort once talking out loud stopped forcing him to do it. His arms were tingling except where John held him and it was spreading to his shoulders so he knew he had to breathe. He heard John take in a breath and did what he did, without realizing what or quite why. 

They stood there, foreheads touching, hands wrapped around each other's arms, and Rodney remembered how to force air into his lungs as he stared at the floor. His boots were scuffed and worn and clean from three weeks inside, and John's shoes were some Genii leather things, hand-woven with no laces or metal. Rodney still had his clothes, and some trousers and pullovers from the Genii so he had more than two days' clothes to work with, but John had the cotton pants that didn't fit without a belt and striped boxers that stuck out over the top. Rodney thought he could nearly see the man's ribs now, three weeks of being laid low and abused having taken their toll. Rodney caught his breath again and tried to lift his head but John squeezed his arms to keep him still. 

"You're all I've got, Rodney," John said. "You’re not broken. And I don't need you to fix me, either. Got that?"

Rodney shook his head, ignoring the lie. 

"Fine." John let go of his wrists and straightened up. "I'm gonna prove it."

He stepped away to the desk and started sorting through the Genii notebooks, shoving Rodney’s jacket out of the way until he found the pens in the pocket. A moment later, he moved back to the bed with a pen and book in hand and he sat down cross-legged so he was sitting up without using the wall for support. Rodney frowned at him when he told him to _sit_. 

"What?" he asked instead. John nodded toward the other end of the bed as he scribbled something on one of the pages.

"Sit. Your ass. Down," he repeated. Rodney did. And John handed over the notebook and pen. Distracted, Rodney was mostly breathing again and blinked down at the algebraic notation on the top line of the page. It just said _e4_. And John stared at him expectantly.

The idiot had started a game of chess. Rodney took the pen and John's lips tugged up into a smug grin.

"Left my board at home. This is the best we've got. For a while."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> TW: Panic attacks


	7. Chapter 7

Dinner showed up not long after. When he heard the keys in the door, Sheppard pushed himself to the other side of the bed, managing to gain his feet and stand behind it without getting tangled up by his bound wrists. He had gotten eerily used to wearing the shackles and could figure out how to fake his way through almost anything that wasn't putting on a shirt, apparently. Rodney blinked back at him, confused, but he didn't say anything as John slouched in the corner, out of reach of the soldiers and the chain on the wall. 

Rodney’s jacket and notebooks were moved aside on the desk and the wooden bowls and spoons were set down, with the warning that they would be picked up in a half an hour. The soldier disappeared again and John walked around to snatch up a bowl. Things that looked like vegetables and chicken were mixed together inside, and orange mashed-stuff that looked like mashed potatoes. It was more food than John usually found in his bowls, so he wasn't going to turn his nose up at the weird Pegasus food. He retreated to the other side of the bed again to sit down and eat, still keeping the bed between himself and the once again locked door. Rodney frowned at him for it.

"Why?" Rodney asked, waving his spoon between where John had been sitting and where he had moved to.

"I don't want them to remember I'm here," John said, shrugging it off. "Don't want to sleep locked to the wall again."

"Oh." Rodney accepted it quietly and returned to his food. But there were no freak-outs or panic attacks. "They brought two bowls. They know you're here."

"And if they order me over there then I'll go, but I don't want to be sitting next to the chain when somebody walks in," said John. "I can handle everything else. I'm tired of _that_."

"I'll see if I can find something to make lock picks from," Rodney said.

"Don't. Just do the list," said John, shaking his head. "Doesn't do us any good to get out of here until we can get to the 'gate. I'm not picking any fights until we have a way off this rock."

And it was weird how forty minutes of playing brain-games on paper with Rodney had changed John's way of thinking about his own life expectancy. He had been told this was his room, that he wouldn't be leaving it again, and there was a certain perception of safety to that with Rodney sitting there. He didn't know what things would look like in the morning, when Rodney wasn’t there anymore, but he had a few hours before he had to worry about that. Rodney stared at him before finally nodding. 

The food disappeared long before the tray was picked up. Really, the soldier might as well have waited, they could have just inhaled it. But the half-hour schedule was probably an indication of their watch schedule. John stayed still on the other side of the room while the bowls were collected, then moved back to the bed. He was wearing down, so he stretched out on his side, angled enough to reach the book if Rodney started the game up again. He didn't though. He put it on the table with the others and started unlacing his boots. 

"Lights on or off?" Rodney asked, sounding very uncertain about even voicing the offer. John shook his head; it didn't matter. He had slept in the infirmary for weeks, with the lights either always on in his tiny room or always on in the room beyond the windowed walls. With them off, he was afraid of forgetting where he was, but on the other hand, he wanted to do that anyway. Rodney killed the switch by the door, and then grumbled when the light in the bathroom stayed on. The door was mostly closed, but it cast enough light that John could see his friend's face as Rodney scowled at it.

"I'm not getting that. Might need it anyway," he reasoned. It would have otherwise been pitch black in the room and probably creepy. Instead it reminded John impossibly of those old motels back on Earth, with the cheap curtains that didn’t block the light from the neon sign over the parking lot out the window. For some reason he thought that was amusing. Rodney crawled under the blankets that John lay on top of. 

"You’re going to freeze. Don't stay there," he ordered. John let out a huff of laughter and shook his head. He did as he was told, toeing off his shoes before getting under the covers.

"Okay, Mom," he said, quiet. He still curled on his side and raised his arms enough to protect his face when he fell asleep. Not that Rodney would be a threat. John had just figured out he had to make the effort so his body would let him sleep.

Rodney was still for a few minutes before he started shuffling around, lifting up on his elbows to punch the pillow because the pillows were both flat and useless but it was "still better than the bench." John startled at the sound the first time, then curled in a little tighter under the blankets. The listlessness got quieter but Rodney still tossed his head to look one side or another since he was wedged in on himself on his stomach. 

"You okay there, buddy?" John finally asked. 

"Fine," muttered Rodney. 

"Uh huh." John lowered his arms and held his hands out to take Rodney’s again. Rodney latched on and went back to being still. Hardly minutes passed before it threatened to start up again. John tugged on the hand he held to drag Rodney closer and off his stomach. **"** C'mere then."

"I'm- it's..." Rodney got flustered but still moved in to curl up like John did. "Look, I've been having nightmares. I don't know if-"

"Yeah, me too. You ignore mine, I'll ignore yours," John replied. Maybe hugging it out to sleep would fix the problem for the both of them. He kept the thought to himself and carefully arranged his arms over Rodney’s head and draped over his chest. Rodney set his hand over John's and poked his fingers between. John tugged him back against his chest and ducked his forehead at the back of his neck to hide.

He was tired and figured he would be asleep soon once it was quiet again. But as Rodney’s breathing deepened and his friend dropped off, mostly safe and in his arms as proof, things hit somehow harder. John kept the tears silent, aside from the catch in his breathing, and inwardly laughed at himself for it; his arms were stuck, there was no possible way to wipe his face to hide the proof without waking up Rodney. He felt raw and exhausted and somehow safe because he hid behind Rodney. When he left, that safety would go with him, the rest would stay, and John was afraid of _that_. 

But he managed to sleep eventually. And if Rodney heard him cry, he didn't say anything about it. The only nightmare was the one he woke up to, hours later, of the light in the room being turned on.

"Wake up," ordered Kolya's voice. John instinctively tugged Rodney in closer, but even fresh from sleep he knew he had to follow the man's orders. He shook Rodney a little and roused his friend's brain closer to awareness. Then Rodney was untangling himself from John's arms and sitting up. He was still a shield and John stayed where he was because Rodney had sat up in just the right spot to keep John's face from Kolya's line of sight.

"Sheppard, you have two minutes in the bathroom. We leave in three," the Commander said. John kicked back the blankets, confused but not about to argue. It gave him the chance to wash his face, because he wasn't admitting to anyone that he had cried. There was a mirror in there and John tried to avoid it, but he at least took note of it, tucked the fact of its existence secretly back in his brain so no one would know he knew about it. The tap water was clear enough and John chanced drinking from it because it didn't look like the Commander had brought room service with him and there was no other water available.

John reported back into the room mostly under the two minutes line, and Rodney was back in his jacket, shoes on his feet. He looked tired and worried. Kolya walked by him, around the bed, and passed John to get to the bathroom. The Commander did a quick survey of the room before turning off the light and closing the door. Apparently he was worried about the electric bill, but John kept the observation to himself when Kolya caught his arm and marched him to the other side of the bed. He was locked up to the chain again and ordered back down on the bed.

It wouldn't do him any good to be sick, but John felt the weight of the chain lead and wanted to. Kolya made it worse when he patted his face and said "Good boy."

Rodney flushed red, anger visible, and John pulled his wrists up on the pillow to hide behind. He didn't have to watch McKay leave the room that way. And the light shut off before the door closed behind them. John was left in complete darkness. Absolutely black. He should have expected it.

So John tried to sleep. The nightmares came back, but Rodney wasn’t there for him to wake up from the half-aware effort at self-defense against his own mind. The only thing he accomplished was hitting himself with the chain when he swung his arms up. It worked to wake him up, anyway. It was hard to tell the difference though, lying in a room so dark he couldn't see the hands in front of his face. John kept his eyes closed even when he couldn't sleep and tried to remember his training. After weeks in the infirmary, this was basic stuff, torture resistance 101, and he could handle it. It was temporary. Rodney would be back at the end of the day and the lights would turn on then.

* * *

Mornings were a special kind of hell, Rodney decided. He had finally gotten the Genii to get him something with a caffeine content approximate to coffee, otherwise he would have just sat on the bench all morning and scowled at the wall. He was uncomfortable and cranky and hated Acastus Kolya's existence with every fiber of his being. And it was very hard to channel that hatred out when trying to work for the man's people. Caffeine at least helped. 

The new arrangement was welcome, and Rodney felt safer knowing John was safer. But it was a double-edged sword of its own. The whole sharing a bed thing did nothing good for the stupid crush he had always had on Sheppard. He was Rodney’s friend, they had done things together since the idiot sat his ass down in the wrong chair, and over the last few years they had done nearly everything together, including nearly dying and blowing up a solar system. That was actually very, Very Terrible, but also kind of cool and one of those things that other people who hadn't experienced it just wouldn't understand. At least when John threw it in Rodney's face, he was pushing it in his own, too, because Sheppard was, if anything, a masochist at heart.

And they were friends. They were, at the moment, the only real link either of them had back to Atlantis. Or really anything worth calling _human_ at all. And Rodney was stuck waking up after dreaming about him because the guy slept behind him. He could feel the heat from his bare chest and the weight from his arm, and he could certainly smell him, because three weeks of bathing in a sink and rewearing clothes did nothing for either of them. The realization that John smelled better than him because he had likely been getting baths from nurses did absolutely nothing for Rodney’s mood overall, which was the problem he found himself in. He should not be jealous of the nurses. Especially not after what John had gone through to require them.

Rodney had always been a jerk about, well, everything, and this was a new low. He sat in a Genii lab, surrounded by notebooks full of his words that would instruct the Genii on how to get themselves to the technological equivalent of the Milky Way, and he was well past crushing on his best friend, who was hurting from torture heaped on him by the people Rodney was helping.

The fake-coffee wasn't Irish enough for any of the foreign feelings in Rodney's head and the only one he knew what to do with was the _self-hatred_. He was good with that. 

The lights in the room were bugging him, too bright and too buzzy, and Rodney shut them off, working by the light from the windows that looked out into the hallway. Because a dank, slimy, brick wall was _wonderful_ to look at. Rodney didn't care, he just needed the light to be quiet. It was one less annoyance, and he found the shred of focus to use to continue his notes. They needed better shielding or the power center was going to kill everyone in the underground city, one way or another. Staying alive was more important than sorting out his feelings. 

It got him to lunch, anyway. And then he had to switch to the computer parts instructions. Because he really needed a computer, damn it. And then he remembered Kolya had mentioned the damn bomb again that morning, so Rodney started writing out what he felt they needed to know about the bomb. A sort of history lesson of all the damage it had done and the basics of how it had done it. He still stumbled over thinking about writing down the instructions to build a reactor, and that started him working on the Geiger counter again. 

And the multitasking seemed to bring him back to John sooner than he was fully ready for. Maybe he could sleep in the desk chair. Rodney took his books and pens with him again to make sure he had the excuse. 

When the soldier opened the door, Rodney noticed the room was dark and frowned. Had they taken John out of there again? No, _nonono_. That wasn't something he was ready for, either. He pressed into the room as the soldier hit the lightswitch and saw John sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes closed and squinted against the dim light as he held his arms out toward them. Rodney dumped his books on the table, confused and set off balance. 

The soldier stood looking down at John. Kolya leaned in the door, arms crossed and supervising. 

"What, Sheppard?" Kolya asked. "Do you want something?"

John's arms sagged slightly at the question. He squinted over at the door but still kept his eyes cast down. "Sir?"

"What do you say then?" Kolya asked, and even Rodney heard the amusement in his tone. Rodney took his jacket off, a distraction from the anger rising. 

"Fine, give me the keys and I'll do it," he said. Kolya's good humor faded. He nodded toward the chair behind Rodney. 

"Sit down, Dr. McKay," he instructed.

"Please?" John asked, managing to hold his wrists up again. The weight of the chain dragged at his bad shoulder. Rodney dropped into the chair rather than argue and risk Kolya stalling more. 

“Good,” said Kolya finally. “Let him up.”

The soldier was smiling and smug as they keyed open the lock at John’s wrists and tossed the chain under the bed enough it wouldn’t be used against him. Rodney took it all in sourly and crossed his arms. He looked up at Kolya.

“I need water.”

“There’s a tap in there,” the Commander replied. It took everything in him for Rodney to refrain from rolling his eyes.

“Yes, but there’s no cups. I need a mug. To drink from. And my coffee mug stays in the lab.”

Kolya nodded acceptance of the logic. “Then something will be brought with your dinner.”

“Thank you,” Rodney replied, trying to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. “My radiation notes will be done in the morning. I don’t want to trade radiation poisoning for dehydration.”

“That sounds agreeable, doctor,” said Kolya, because apparently they were all friends now and the man could loiter. Talking to Kolya gave Rodney an excuse not to notice the streaks and general pained expression on John’s face anyway.

“When your scientists review things I have written, I should tour the facility that is here to make sure you haven’t found some obscure approach I didn’t account for. Field trip. Maybe get somebody to pencil that one in on the schedule book?” said Rodney. The Commander nodded again, a surprised sort of grin on his face. 

“I’m sure it will be considered,” said Kolya. “The information you have already provided has set the scientists arguing. You have earned their respect and others are asking to speak with you to clarify things from your notes. The doors have been locked to keep them _out_ for a week.”

The stroke on the ego was unexpected and Rodney’s irritation momentarily faded. “Well. We should probably arrange something there.”

“I’ll look into it then. If you’re ready.” Kolya studied Rodney and all he could do was nod in the face of it. McKay certainly wasn’t ready for it but he had blundered his way into it now so he would have to be. Kolya nodded then and said good night, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him before Rodney could figure out an argument. 

The moment the door was locked again, John was up off the bed and in the room’s water closet. Rodney didn’t see him again until after their dinner had been delivered. When he came out, he looked like he had stuck his whole head under the faucet and it wasn’t like they had much in the way of towels. Rodney gulped at the food from his own bowl as he handed John’s over. 

“You okay?” he asked, cautious.

“Let’s just agree to stop asking that question,” Sheppard said. “Because the answer is going to stay the same every time. And I’m fine with ignoring it.”

Rodney frowned at him. “I’m-”

John jumped in quick to talk over him. “Not about to say you’re sorry again, so you’re going to come up with something else to say, right?”

Rodney hesitated and then nodded, picking up the mug next to him at the table and holding it over to John. “I’m going to tell you to go get water to drink instead of wear.”

“Good save,” John replied. And he took the bowl of food with him to do as Rodney had told him. Rodney watched him fill and down two mugs before leaving the cup by the sink and going back out to the bed to his former spot. They ate in silence after that, Rodney’s mind too busy with second guessing nearly everything. He had no idea where John had gone, but it didn’t seem like a great place. Not that there were many to go to in their current situation. John took the bowl over to the table and set it where it was close to the door for pickup without him having to be involved in the process. And just as the day before, he retreated to the other side of the bed, away from the chain on the side near the door.

"So you haven't eaten anything else today," Rodney realized suddenly. He had watched them lock John up that morning, and then sat for his own breakfast and lunch both served in the lab. John gave a slight nod.

"And yes, I spent all day in the dark, so no, there's no lights-out from here on," said Sheppard, still growly on the topic he had very explicitly said not to ask about earlier. "I can maybe sleep through the day if I don't sleep at night."

"Just... don't start up a rock band or something and I can sleep through it," said Rodney, nodding. 

"Come on, man. I was really looking forward to learning the drums on that mug you got me," John replied, waving toward the bathroom. But the tone had lightened up a little. Rodney offered a grin and got a smile in return, and the defensive fire backed off.

It was a relief, too, in that it meant John wouldn't be sleeping at Rodney’s back, and the thing that had been bugging Rodney since he woke up could have another day to go dormant again. John could stay his tactile self and Rodney could retreat to his European roots to deal with it. He hated people touching him, but John wasn't _people_ , either way. 

It still threw Rodney for a loop when John, perched at the head of the bed and looking comfortable slouched against the wall, asked him "So are we gonna play tonight or are you tapped out?"

"Oh boy," Rodney muttered, standing from his chair and heading for the bathroom. 

"What?" 

"Water," replied Rodney before shutting himself in. He got himself water and stalled. Maybe he needed sleep. Maybe that would fix it. He stared at himself in the small mirror and realized he still looked like a mad scientist. Maybe more so now because he had stressed himself out. He would shave in the morning. Especially if he was going to have to deal with the Genii scientists any time soon. First impressions and everything. 

It wasn't like Rodney didn't have enough to worry about without complicating the shit out of everything with the vague, amorphous _feelings_ thing screwing things up. Rodney was certainly skilled at making his own life difficult. 

When he got back out, the dinner bowls had been taken back, and John hadn't been locked up again. John had stolen one of the blankets and was using it as a cape of sorts, sitting against the rough wall and protecting his back from it with the blanket. He seemed proud of himself for it. 

Rodney set the alarm on his watch in the hopes of being awake before the door unlocked, folded his shirt and left it by his jacket, and got under the blankets. Then the two of them passed the chess book back and forth until John won. 

"You must be tired," Sheppard observed.

"No, just stupid," Rodney replied without thinking, thereby proving his own point.

"While ordinarily I would agree on principle, on this I think I'm gonna have to _not_ ," said John. He tossed the book in the middle of the blanket over Rodney’s chest. "What gives?"

"I don't know the answer to that question." And it wasn't for lack of trying, because Rodney had been stuck on it all day.

"Okay... do I need to know about it?"

It was a fair question. And one that Rodney also didn't know the answer to. And after weeks of their shared hells, on top of months of friendship, where John was the guy Rodney complained to about every interpersonal confusion he had in the lab, every time he ran into some snag with one of his scientists, or every time someone acted like an idiot and then got mad at Rodney for existing because of it... any other place or time, John would have known about it. Rodney frankly would have just asked him to _explain_ it. But he couldn't here.

"Silence usually means _yes_ , Rodney," John observed.

"Not always," Rodney said quickly.

"What’s it mean this time?"

"That I don't know the answer to that question."

John reached over and started thumping his nose with the pen from their chess game. "Then write it out until you make sense of it."

Rodney snatched the pen from him to make it stop attacking him. "That won't work."

"If you write it, I can read it. And we shortcut all this," said John.

He had a valid point, but it didn't help. Rodney shook his head. He turned on his side, knocking the book and the pen toward John. "I should sleep."

He curled up on his side with his back to the door on purpose, figuring that if he was facing John then there would be no hugs. He was mostly right. Rodney scrunched his eyes closed and played opossum for a few minutes like that would be enough to get him to sleep.

"So you can ignore me if I talk, right?" John asked. His voice was low and quiet and comfortable and Rodney could easily fall asleep to it. He couldn't exactly say he was ignoring it, but Rodney nodded rather than admit John could be background noise to sleep to.

"Good. If I talk, I can stay awake. I'll... Try to be boring. I dunno, talk about- shit. I could read chess moves... But that'll put _me_ to sleep. I dunno. Stuff that doesn't blow up, I guess?"

John stayed sitting up, collected the book and pen away from where Rodney had dumped them and closer to his own reach. Then he plopped his hands down near Rodney’s and caught at his fingers. Rodney latched on and didn’t let go until he really did fall asleep.

* * *

A week later, Chief Cowen reached out to Atlantis. Not to disclose information regarding the whereabouts of Colonel Sheppard or Dr. McKay, but rather to ask for help within the terms of their treaty. It seemed their people in the village had come down with a sickness and none of their doctors knew what to do with it. He was rather concerned because it was spreading to the city underground, and had already made it to a few of their outposts. Or maybe it had come from one, Cowen wasn't certain. 

"Dr. Beckett has worked with the doctors on Hoff and a few others now tracking illnesses like this. We can send someone to get a sample and do an assessment. It's certainly possible he's seen it before," Elizabeth said, frowning enough that the uncertainty made it into her voice. "I can't promise the results, but I can promise we'll assist how we can."

"Thank you, Doctor Weir," said a very growly Cowen. "We'll be expecting your team."

The stargate closed and the audio-only connection died. Elizabeth looked to Teyla. "Would you and Ronon like to take advantage of an opportunity that has just opened up?"

Teyla raised an eyebrow. 

"If you were to join the team that escorts Carson, you could look around some. Look and listen only. Avoid contact with the locals as much as possible to avoid getting sick," said Elizabeth. "But it would be entirely up to you. If you were comfortable with going."

Teyla’s relationship with the Genii was strained to put it mildly, but she wasn't afraid of them. With a team behind her, she would be in little danger they couldn't handle. And there would be no stopping Ronon once he found out a team would be going. So Teyla agreed to go and learn what they could. She suited up and met Ronon and Lorne and Carson and the soldiers who would be the medical team's escort. The Jumper was a bit cramped, but they wouldn't be taking any unnecessary chances. John and Rodney had been gone over two weeks, and Atlantis would not be losing anyone else to the Genii's games.

The trip back to the Genii village turned up no sign of their missing teammates, but Teyla was able to socialize with people who had once been friends, and learned of changes being planned to help the Genii stay safe. The village itself had undergone subtle changes since she had been there last. Fences had been built around the city over the many months, and metal decorative elements had been introduced around the homes. The barn that had guarded the underground entrance had been converted into a run-down, unfinished-looking house, with no real way to sneak inside. At least, not without being noticed. 

Rather than sneak anywhere at all, Teyla took Ronon by the hand and led him away from town and the Atlantis military minders as Carson and his team saw to the Genii with symptoms. It was something like a pox, and the infected villagers had red welts that looked uncomfortable. Everyone stayed away from each other, so no one noticed when Teyla and Ronon disappeared. Not after they had been laughing and teasing each other all afternoon. And so, as lovers were known to do toward nightfall, they went off in search of places to be alone. 

The hay shed on the outer edge of town was just perfect for their purposes, as it turned out.

Wearing thick gloves and a scarf that partly covered his face, Ronon propped open the heavy trap door that led to the underground city. Teyla slid down the ladder first, dressed much like Ronon against the city's pox. They had a pack of supplies with them, too, herbal medicines mostly from the botany department, but enough to get them out of trouble if they were caught down there. 

They had no maps, no real agenda on where to go, but Teyla somewhat remembered her trips below previously. She remembered where they had been taken. Maybe it was possible Rodney or John would have been taken there, too. They listened at doorways, avoided busy hallways, and ducked into unlocked doors. Just looking. Just in case. 

Finding a door that looked slightly familiar, Teyla pressed through and swept a flashlight beam around the room. Ronon closed the door behind them as she checked it over. It was a simple box of a room with a desk and chairs in the middle, shelves at the back, like an office. Nothing interesting jumped out at her, and Teyla frowned. She had certainly never been in this room before. But it had been familiar, an instinctive recognition that she couldn't ignore.

She poked at the stack of books on one side of the desk, old and exquisitely bound with titles crafted into the leather. Science manuals from the Genii library, or perhaps even Hoff, some mentioning the stars and others mentioning medicines. Smaller books were stacked separately, hand-sewn bindings with larger, rougher paper and not so many pages. There were no titles. 

Opening one, Teyla squinted at what she found. She reached for Ronon to catch his attention from one of the books.

"Look at these," she said, flipping open another flimsy book as she shoved it toward Ronon. "Do you know that handwriting?"

"Familiar enough," said Ronon, snatching up one of the smaller books to squint in the bright flashlight glare at the neat and tiny print that lined every page. "As it happens, I know an idiot genius who could fill a few books this size with information about solar power-generators, too."

Teyla nodded, already looking through the notebooks. All of them were about power generation sources. Solar, hydro, and something called _biogas_. All of them Rodney’s handwriting. Teyla snatched them up and shoved them in the backpack she carried. She swapped out for a bag of the dried medicinal tea, carrying their excuse for being in the underground passages where it could be seen.

"We must get back to Carson," she said. Ronon didn't immediately agree, but when they got back to the hallway, he followed her. They were twice as careful going back as they had been to get as far as they had in the first place. And it paid off when they made it back to the surface without having been caught, despite two close calls. 

Teyla took her backpack and the notebooks she had stolen straight to the marines that watched the Jumper while Ronon went to collect the medical team. It was full dark now and they had every excuse to leave; Ronon would make sure the excuses were listened to. 

"Now then. Someone want to tell me what _that_ was about?" Carson asked once everyone was safely inside the Jumper and they were in the air bound for the 'gate. Teyla took one of the notebooks out of the pack she still guarded and handed it over to the doctor without a word. His eyes skimmed it a few pages before his shoulders sagged and his face clouded over.

"Oh, Rodney," Carson sighed. 

* * *

The pattern went on for a week. John stayed awake on a useless watch-shift all night so he could sleep through the pitch black day shift. He said scribbling in the notebook and telling stories to himself out loud with the lights on was better than the waking nightmares caused by his eyes seeing things in the dark that weren't there, and the exhaustion caused by constantly looking when there was no light to see by. It was apparently something he was already well familiar with.

Rodney still had his watch, which meant by the end of the week, they had it dialed in on when the guards would show up for what. It was just to give Rodney time to get dressed and have his boots on before the soldiers showed up, but it helped Sheppard stay a little closer to sane, too. Time was just a construct, yes, but it allowed John something he could control and predict. There was a row of pencil marks on the wall behind the door, too, because John decided he wanted a calendar.

And whenever Rodney got up to get dressed, John disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, to shore himself up for a day in the dark. Then he went and sat down on Rodney’s side of the bed and attached the lead to the shackles at his wrist. It was just a simple padlock, and they always left it open at night. He locked it himself, though, and if it slipped and didn't quite catch, he had Rodney check to be sure. Rodney hated it, but John asked him, so he always checked and snapped it if it had slipped.

At first it threw the guards, but by the fourth day they did it, the soldier just walked in long enough to make sure the lock was secure and walked back out with Rodney. The fifth day, it was Kolya who came in to check for himself.

"Huh," he said when he found the lock secured. He patted John on the face. "Good boy."

Rodney had to stand back and watch _again_ , his jaw clenched and fists in his jacket pockets. John wouldn't look at him after that, and when Kolya turned his back and left, he drew into himself and lay down on his side to hide his face behind his shackled wrists on the pillow. Rodney wanted to stay where he was, not leave, and let John back off the chain tether. There was little difference between writing notes in their room versus the lab. But Kolya stepped back into the room to ask what was keeping him. And Rodney had to pretend he hadn't been watching John, shuffling the notebooks in his hands instead to look for his pencils and pens in his pockets. Then he followed without a word. Because that's what he was expected to do.

Rodney copied notes out from the fragments of the Database translations they had stored in his laptop sometimes, just to give his brain a break. It would be enough to prove to Kolya that the Genii weren't equipped to handle the realm of knowledge they wanted to steal from Atlantis so badly. If he ever actually showed them those notes, anyway. It was enough that he looked busy to the soldiers who snooped in the bare windows and it let Rodney be alone all day, dealing with the anger and frustration and the fear triggered from watching Sheppard so tame under the abuse. It wasn't him.

There was hardly a shadow of his friend left whenever the door of the closed-off cell opened, even just for a few seconds to drop off their food. And it stuck in Rodney's head and clawed at his energy and will to accomplish anything at all for the man who treated John so badly, who made Rodney participate in it every day. It was a shitty way to start the day and it happened every morning now, so Kolya's favorite insult was just... overkill.

Rodney made it through the day by faking it, and he mechanically ate his breakfast and lunch because he knew he had to, and he had his books stacked up and ready to leave an entire hour before they let him leave. He went back to their room mulish and silent, but glad that Kolya had other places to be and hadn't bothered to provide the escort.

When John was let out, he promptly disappeared, and then exited the bathroom standing a little taller than when he had walked into it. The swagger was long gone and hadn't come back, but there was a lopsided smile on his face, and his hair was wet again so it was especially spikey. He was still too pale, his eyes too shadowed, but he patted Rodney on the shoulder and stood beside him to sort through the notebooks for their game book. 

"How'd it go today?" John asked. As if he hadn't been handcuffed to the wall in the dark all day. As if they were setting up a game in the mess hall, not waiting for room service of slop and gruel because there was no door knob on the inside of their front door. 

"I- I don't get it," Rodney blurted, staring at him. John seemed to freeze up, his movements slowing as he glanced over at Rodney.

"What?"

"You."

John actually seemed amused by that. "Stand in line."

"I'm not kidding," said Rodney, turning as John snagged the book and then the pens from Rodney's jacket pocket and retreated to the bed. He didn't have anything to say to that for a minute and Rodney wasn't sure how to explain.

"This... I spent all day stuck on how... Just... You weren't okay this morning," Rodney floundered and John seemed to close off for a minute, jaw tight and eyes down. 

"Nothing's okay, it just... Is," John pointed out. He scribbled something in their game and held the book up to Rodney for him to take his turn. He nodded his head toward Rodney's usual spot on the bed, between John and the door, as a hint. That wasn't what he wanted to do, but Rodney climbed in to sit up against the wall anyway and snatched the book. 

"So, when I was a kid, I had to go to private schools for a couple of years, which, _yeah_ , that sucked," John said, quiet. "And until I was about eighteen, we always had to do these fundraisers with my dad's company. Surviving all that shit meant you had to read the room. Had to know who to kiss up to and who to avoid. Had to smile right and tell the right stories to get some rich asshole to add an extra zero on the end of the donation."

Rodney frowned at the book in his hand, squinting at their messy game as an excuse not to look over at John. "You aren't kissing up to anybody. If it's anything, it's the opposite. And I hate it."

John slouched into his blanket-cape against the wall. "I can still read the room, McKay. If _he_ thought I was still _in_ _here-_ " he paused to tap his pencil at his forehead - "Then he wouldn't have let me sit here with you. And at least now, I know you're okay. So I can let him see what he wants if it'll get him to write that check."

Mulling it over, Rodney handed the book back. "So it's an act."

John shrugged. "I guess. It's... Self preservation at this point. Coward's way out, maybe. I already got my ass kicked, I know I'm gonna lose if it happens again. I'd rather avoid that, that part's true."

"Being smart isn't cowardly," said Rodney. And that stung a little, because it felt cowardly to him, sitting in a lab when John was the one who got hurt for him to have the privilege of not bleeding. John shook his head as he considered the next chess move.

"I don't think so," said John. "But I have a kinda screwy view on things. Always have."

"How do you figure?" Rodney asked. John shrugged. Both of them had their attention on the open book page as John stalled out on his move.

"I dunno. Just do. Most anybody who knows my family thinks I was crazy for joining the military instead of being a VP at twenty and some kinda lawyer on the side. My ex didn't think much of the fact I think flying planes is better than sex. My CO's would rather I didn't waste good helicopters chasing after lost crew in enemy territory. But I'm gonna do what I gotta do anyway. Whether it tracks with anybody else or not."

He handed over the book after another minute, move made. "And if that means that bastard touches my face again, I guess that's what it means. I'll deal."

"How'd you-" Rodney bit his tongue on the surprised question. John _didn't_ know that it was that same, stupid, offensive touch that Rodney had been stuck on all day. There was no way he knew that. He stared at the move written in the algebraic notation next in line. Then he shook his head. "You can't cheat when it's on paper, John. You are literally announcing it in black and white."

"I didn't cheat!" John snatched the book back to check the move. His annoyance faded. "Well, shit."

Rodney watched him, waited. He almost had to smile about it. John looked over at him and stabbed at the entry. "This was _not_ cheating. Just an accident. I'm just rusty."

"We've been at this for a week..."

"So? We haven't played every possible game yet. A week doesn't matter. I can be out of practice.," returned John. He flipped a page and started making lines, some kind of sketch. Not long later, the book was back in Rodney's hand.

"There. I can't screw this one up," he said. Rodney stared down at a game of _Hangman_ , complete with the sketched-in gallows and boxes under it for the correct letters to be filled in. He hung his head, chin to his chest.

"You can't be serious."

John smirked at him. "You're never gonna get it."

Challenge thus laid out, Rodney had to at least attempt to prove him wrong. He counted the two rows of boxes and then cast a sidelong glare at John, even opened his mouth to call him out for being an idiot. But John rolled his eyes. 

"I swear to God it's not _ferris wheel_ ," he said.

Rodney grumbled about it but made his first guess anyway, because even the _stupid_ games worked to make John actually happy. That was at least familiar. And reminded him a little of home.

* * *

Every morning, Sheppard kept his head down and didn't watch as Rodney left. Just curled up and slept in the dark. He was, to an extent, being allowed to mitigate his own trauma, by voluntarily sitting in a black hole by himself all day, and keeping his head about it kept things easier on Rodney, too. 

The day after John made him play _Hangman_ , Rodney cleaned himself up, even snuck the razor in for John that night, and John made him sneak it back out in the morning. If Kolya noticed the cleaned-up look, he didn't say anything. It felt almost human again, for John, and he had done it himself without any help. 

Eventually, with good behavior and biting his tongue, John got new clothes. Or at least new pants and boxers to switch between and fake his own laundry in the sink at night. Shirts required the cuffs being gone and Kolya wouldn't go there; Rodney had apparently asked.

It kept things easy for a while.

Until the day it changed and John was woken up after a few hours and dragged out of the room. He was stronger but not enough to test it, so he stumbled to keep up and walked through the halls - halls that had been painted, _what the hell_? - with his four-man escort in quite the hurry. They pulled him into the brig with the camera setup and John panicked, started to fight back for a few seconds before he remembered the deal. He took the hits Rodney couldn’t. So Rodney must have screwed up.

 _Shit_. 

John held his hands up enough to show he wasn't fighting and he went where he was told, sitting in the metal chair off in front of the desk and the camera again. This time the plan was different because John was strapped into the chair, his arms pinned down with leather straps at the biceps and his legs locked to the chair legs. The soldiers strapped his neck to the high back of the metal chair and then tied a gag over his mouth, none of which was comfortable or a necessarily good sign, but John was glad he had a guarantee that he wouldn't be dragged out of the chair again. 

Everything in the room was as it had been the first day, though the blood had been cleaned up. It had stained the desk, and John easily saw the dark splotches on the surface. His blood left a mark where Kolya had nearly killed him before. And it kept drawing his attention where it sat between John and the camera.

On the bulky screens along the wall, Kolya stood with Rodney at the old lab and John saw him holding Rodney by the elbow to keep him where he was told. To make sure he watched whatever his punishment was to be as it was administered to John instead. The picture of the lab was grainy and scrolling, like it couldn’t lock on the signal the same as the last time. It was hard to see them at all, but John didn't have a lot of free time to worry about the Genii's outdated tech. There was no sound this time, either, because Kolya was clearly talking, and Rodney was responding, but John couldn't hear them. Part of that may have been the rushing in his ears, but there still was no sound from the speakers by the TVs. 

And then a towel was put over John’s face and the metal chair was pushed back on two legs and over some kind of block because Sheppard felt himself tip upside down, and the chair back that held him was fastened to the block to keep him that way. It did nothing good for the slow panic he was already feeling. 

John learned that day that the Genii had their own version of waterboarding. He had been trained for that once. He rather liked breathing, and the overall sensation of _not_ -drowning was preferable, but after the panic settled, once he realized what he was in for, he thought he could mostly handle it. It actually helped that he found it hilarious on some level; Kolya was desperate to keep Sheppard out of the infirmary after the blow-up with the doctor, but he still needed something to scare Rodney with. So they went with drowning. _A-plus_ for creativity. 

And John was thankful Kolya's men knew what they were doing, because he didn't die. They put him under three times, with plenty of time in between for him to recover. It was scary, probably sounded worse when John came up coughing, but he tried to remember they didn't want him dead yet, tried to hold his breath, tried to make his mind go somewhere else. 

When it was done, John was dumped in the cell, though. No more comfy bed and pitch black isolation. John sat up against the back wall and practiced breathing, struggling to remember his lessons with Teyla after over a month without seeing her face.

He got to watch the soldiers take apart their torture device of choice. It was really a very simple set up, just a chair and the mounting block for it, and the drain in the floor. The block disappeared somewhere, but the chair was tucked in under the desk like it belonged there. The Genii were certainly efficient creatures, with everything multitasking like that.

And on the scrolling, grainy screen image across the room, a very staticky McKay stood and leaned on a desk, shoulders slumped. But Kolya had left him alone. Shivering and cold, John focused on remembering how to breathe and tried to take a nap sitting up; sleep it off, pretend he was fine until he was fine. Eventually they woke him up to bring him dinner, so John figured he had survived another round as the genius' whipping boy.

It was at least a day before he was taken back to the tiny bedroom apartment. John was actually glad for the dark then. No cameras in the dark, so no trouble. He was also starving and _everything_ hurt. When Rodney was brought back in later, the guy looked like shit. His shoulders were slumped and he was curled in on the edges like he could shrink. He literally found a corner to stand in until the soldiers left.

John was let off the lead chain and stood up when they were gone. Rodney tackled him with a hug before he had taken two steps away from the bed. It was awkward with the ever-present cuffs, but John figured out how to hug him back.

"Kolya told me to take apart Ronon's gun, figure out how to replicate it. I told him _no_ ," Rodney said quickly. "I panicked so I said no. I'm sorry..."

John hadn't expected the news and he wasn't sure which hit him in the chest harder, Rodney's words or the arms around his ribs. He hugged his friend's neck and tried to hold him closer. "I'd panic, too, buddy. It's okay."

"How'd they get that if they don't have Ronon?" Rodney asked. He still sounded panicked a day later.

"He could have dropped it. Maybe they got one from wherever he got his. They probably only just found it recently or it would have been on your list sooner," reasoned John. "They're fine, Rodney. I promise. I know our guys and they're fine."

McKay didn't buy it, but he didn't keep poking at it either. And he didn't let go of John, so they just stood there.

"Did you figure out how to take it apart?" John asked eventually. Rodney let out a slightly crazed laugh, anger still surging off every inch of him.

"There was nothing to take apart. The powercell had been removed. It was just a gun with no bullets," he said, talking into John's shoulder. "All that. And I couldn't even get anything from it."

Okay, _that_ hurt a little. They put John under three times and there was nothing to show for it, aside from the fact that it probably put Kolya in a _great_ mood. 

"Told you, can't be Ronon's," was all John said to that. 

Dinner wasn't exactly a feast, but it was a plate of some kind of steak that tasted like chicken alongside their usual bowl of what looked like funny colored versions of the basic food groups. John inhaled everything in the bowl. He then tried to wash it down with water but gagged the moment the cup got close to his mouth, so he figured he would give himself a day or two away from drinking anything. He thought about trying to pick up on their chess game but he couldn't focus, and the _suggestion_ of reading Rodney’s writing was so much like _work_ that it hurt his head, so he stretched out to try sleep instead. He moved into Rodney’s space and Rodney turned to catch his hand like John usually grabbed his.

"Hey..." John began, uncertain and hesitant to ask what was stuck on loop in his brain. "Could you... do me a favor? At least, give it a shot?"

Rodney was already nodding. "What?"

"In the morning? Ask the guys to leave the light on."

Rodney managed an affirmative but it gave him some kind of trouble. John tugged on his hand to get him closer and Rodney burrowed in against his chest and shoulder. Considering they were both half dressed for sleep under the blankets, it was a little weird. But it was welcome.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> TW: references to torture, waterboarding, isolation, light deprivation


	8. Chapter 8

When Rodney’s watch went off in the morning, a groggy and uncoordinated John Sheppard untangled himself from Rodney and disappeared to use the bathroom before the privilege was taken away from him for the day. He tried to drink some water with moderate success and accepted the single mug as enough for the time being. He had mostly only dozed and was still tired, so he didn't push it. They were well over a month in on this marathon and he wasn't dead yet, so as long as Rodney hadn't gotten through the Genii's to-do list without telling him, John would have a few days to get his head wrapped around things. 

He emerged from the bathroom ready to face a hopefully boring day that at worst meant sleeping through pitch black isolation. He _wanted_ a boring day of not leaving his room. Rodney was dressed and waiting by the time he got out, and his hair was sticking up at random like John's did, which struck Sheppard as immensely entertaining for some reason.

"What?" Rodney asked, mousey and self conscious. John just shook his head and climbed over the bed to take over the top corner of Rodney’s side of it. By the door, near the chain tether. He dragged their chess book and a pen over with him so he could have them in case Rodney was successful in getting the guards to leave the light on for him. John attached the chain to the one between his wrists and then settled in to see if he could sort out a few moves before Rodney had to leave. Rodney yawned and lay down at the foot of the bed, curled up to sleep some more.

The last game they played had finished and John flipped pages until he found it, thinking to start another after it and save pages. But he stopped short when he found what looked like a completed game written out almost entirely in Rodney's scrawl. It was possible Rodney had played a game by himself, except the notation was wrong, very wrong, using letters and letter combinations that didn't correlate to chess moves at all. 

**__** _i2 Th1 N3 Ia2 Lo6 Ve1..._

And despite the attempt to disguise the letters in chess notation, they very clearly formed sentences with letters that shouldn’t be on the board. The capitalization scheme was off, numbers had odd punctuation near them. Even the number three was written backwards. 

**__**_Oh_.

"Rodney?" John asked, quiet.

"Huh?" came the sleepy reply. He didn't open his eyes or really move at all, and it was fifty/fifty that the man was faking it. John figured it was his own fault then if he had a heart attack for it.

" _I think I love you... and it's... worse_?" John asked, reading off the notation-embedded sentences. Rodney’s eyes opened then. And he looked quite cornered somehow sprawled out at the open end of the bed.

There was a _clanking_ noise at the door and it usually signaled that the door was being unlocked and was about to open. John scrambled to bury the chess book under the blankets and pillows next to him.

"This- _not_ over," he said quickly. Rodney sat up and rubbed at his face like he fully intended to ignore John's warning since he had been given the perfectly timed opportunity. He even stood up to fetch his jacket.

"Rodney..." said John as the door swung open. Rodney waved him off.

"I want this light left on, please," Rodney said quickly to the guard. The soldier looked over at him and considered it but still moved to check the lock between John’s wrists.

"Orders are it goes off," said the soldier, and John figured that was the end of it. Rodney nodded acceptance of the orders but still argued.

"I understand that. And I understand that's my fault. But I messed up the other day and I don't want it to get worse so I just want to know that- that he's safe here and not getting hurt as I try to fix what I did wrong," Rodney said. "I would ask Commander Kolya directly but he isn't here. I need to apologize and make it right. And I will. I just... need the light left on."

The soldier looked over at John again. "He looks alright," he said.

"Comparative to _what_?" Rodney asked, blinking in surprise. Carefully studying the floor, John smirked at that; _gee, thanks, Rodney_. The guard shrugged.

"You work it out with the Commander. I'll turn the light on when I'm back for the watch," he said, and he sounded agreeable to it. Because Rodney was the Genii darling with the brain welcoming them to the modern technological age. But Kolya was still Kolya. And hell would freeze over first and the guard knew it, too.

Rodney was still standing protectively in front of the light switch and he glanced over at John, frowned. John shrugged. He hadn't figured it would work, but it seemed worth a shot.

"Alright," Rodney said, though he wasn't happy about it. He even offered up a _thank you_. Before he could leave, though, John tried again to get his attention. 

"McKay..."

"What?" Rodney grumbled back. John stared at him for everything he was worth. It had worked before. It _always_ worked. If he gave Rodney the right face, Rodney would listen. Rodney would read his mind and do what John wanted. It was a _thing_ , somehow. And it worked, because Rodney walked over to look down at him. "What do you want?"

That was close enough so John reached out and tugged on his stupid Genii sweater and pulled him down for the forehead bump they had done dozens of times before. But on this one, John chanced kissing him on the mouth instead. If he was going to badly pass secret codes and try to hide them between chess games, John could be more fucking direct about it. 

And then Rodney kissed him back, even put his books down in John's lap so he could touch his face with his hands as he did it. Careful touches like he was afraid to spook him but still trying to pull him in. John tangled his hands in Rodney's shirt and licked at his lip to ask for a deeper kiss and Rodney matched easily. The guy was half gone on it and kept leaning in until John was propped against the wall at the head of the bed. 

The guard at the door cleared his throat. "Dr. McKay?"

It was enough to startle Rodney and he pulled back quickly. John took the opportunity to catch his breath, but he still offered up a lopsided grin as Rodney stared at him. McKay still looked convinced he was seeing ghosts or something, but he dodged back in for another full kiss and John obliged easily. Finally Rodney let him go and then made himself step back toward the door.

"Your books, Dr. McKay?" The guard offered, sounding worried. Rodney seemed surprised again, looked to the books he had dumped in John's lap, and then approached again to grab them. He looked like he was going to get distracted trying for another kiss, but he ducked his head to John's instead, no kisses, and he smiled finally without looking scared.

A moment later he was back out the door. And the guard had forgotten to turn out the light.

* * *

The rest of the day was a weird sort of blur for Rodney. He was fairly certain he remembered John kissing him. An actual full-on-the-lips kiss, not just the small touches he had been doing accidentally for something like six weeks. Maybe they weren't so accidental after all. But McKay hadn't gotten a chance to really verify it, it was just a rush out the door, his mind could have been playing tricks on him; he _had_ been under a lot of stress lately, especially where John was concerned...

Rodney rubbed at his face with the heels of his hands and tried to focus. He was not helping either of them. He had work to do. And today's work happened to involve exposure to radioactivity so maybe Rodney should definitely be paying attention. Oh, but he really wanted to stop by his room on the way to the Genii's power center and just check in on John. He didn't ask.

Kolya was playing host for the trip to the science labs that morning, and he noticed Rodney’s distraction as Rodney searched through his notes for the books he had started for the power center. 

"Something the matter, Dr. McKay?" he asked. Rodney shook his head and tried to skim the pages faster.

"No, just overlapping subjects, I don't want to give them the wrong notes," Rodney told him. He landed on the right books finally, collected his finished effort at a scrapped-together Geiger counter, and stood up to leave. "Your scientists here do get protective gear, correct?"

Kolya just shrugged because it wasn't his area. It took every bit of conscious thought for Rodney to avoid rolling his eyes. He wanted to keep the man in a good mood so he would have to pretend Acastus Kolya was the Nobel committee for the immediate future. At least he hadn't gotten mad about the problem with the unknown power gun from the day before. That was an improvement. 

Rodney was quiet on the walk to the power center. Noticeably so. Kolya didn't seem to approve. 

"You are certainly out of sorts this morning. I'm wondering if we need to cancel on the science team," Kolya said. Rodney shook his head quickly.

"No, I'm fine. I just... wanted to ask you something. And me and saying things appropriately don't always go hand in hand. So, I mean, yes I may be distracted, but until I figure it out, that won't exactly change," Rodney said, blunt as ever. No one could ever accuse him of not being honest. Kolya raised an eyebrow at him.

"Are you trying to tell me you learned something from earlier this week?"

"Can we not- I mean, _yes_ , I learned things, and I very much didn't like it, just for the record, but that's not-" Rodney sighed, frustrated at himself for walking into it so backwards like usual. "I mean to say, I want to keep John. With me. And I realize you still don't want him in the labs with me, and that's... I understand. But can't we... work toward that? Set it as a long-term goal? Little steps along the way, maybe, to show we're... not going anywhere."

Kolya stopped the group there in the hallway and turned to face McKay, expression sober. "I assure you, Dr. McKay, you aren't going anywhere."

"I know that. That's what I'm trying to say," Rodney said quickly. "Look, even if we wanted to, this place is a maze. Neither one of us have seen daylight in over a month, we don't know how to find it from here, and he's certainly not healthy enough to do much of anything. We're not going anywhere. Okay? Give me a chance to choose to stay, maybe? An illusion of free will for five minutes, and I'm still going to work, the only difference is the quality I am capable of. And I don't want to tell you what to do or something. I'm just asking. Because I need to. I don't want to feel stuck anymore. It's _bad_. I'm saying... just... What do I have to do to not... not have the handcuffs all the time? I want John. I just don't want the reminder that I didn't choose to be here."

Kolya tucked his long jacket out of the way as he stood taller, hands at his hips to stare at Rodney intently.

"Look, I've worked for other governments before. My _entire career_ has been somewhere not my home. It is no different than what I do for you, but you're putting ten times the amount of effort into it. We've been here over a month, that's not changing. So I just want something normal even if it's just... not having to see chains in my room."

"I will not put my men at risk, Dr. McKay," said Kolya. 

"Well, he's no risk to me. Can I have the key, at least? Then there's no risk to your men and I don't have chains in my bed every night," replied Rodney. "It's just an idea. I want to keep John. I just also want to... keep sane."

The Commander crossed his arms as he considered it. "You want to work for the key."

"Yes."

"We'll see how today goes then. If there's no trouble, I'll consider terms," said Kolya. Rodney could have jumped, and he had to work to contain his excitement. The only thing keeping him still was his own faulty self-awareness.

"Okay, but I tend to yell at scientists. Can I still yell? Define _trouble_..."

"No yelling. No insults. No fighting. You are there to improve your work and answer their questions," said Kolya.

"Right. Okay. I can do that."

And Rodney mostly managed it. One of the idiots masquerading as a scientist got in Rodney's face all on his own, completely unprovoked, and Rodney fully retreated behind Kolya. It was completely against his every instinct and he found it personally infuriating, but he managed it. The only insult he shot back was that the science was there to support his argument that their program needed better shielding and if the man in the lab coat didn't want to use his brain to read that then his reading comprehension skills needed work.

They didn't offer him protective gear against the radiation, so Rodney faked his way through it. The poor-man's Geiger counter he had been working on for weeks was an instant success and he had to disconnect the speaker because of the noise it wouldn't stop making. 

"Everyone who works here is going to die. Painfully. That's what that noise means," Rodney informed them, and he was more than a little terrified that he would be stuck there long enough for that to include him. "This is why we need to fix your shielding problem and I need to know what kind of construction materials and methods you are capable of."

The facility tour was blessedly short. And half the scientists followed them back to his lab to argue the finer points of creating radiation suits. That was something Rodney was in no way interested or qualified to instruct them on, beyond telling them what the suits were for, made of, and how they should be used. And that he wanted one before he himself would ever go down there again.

It was all so infuriating and idiotic as much as it was familiar. Achingly familiar. Rodney sat and stared at the wall in silence with the lights off in the room after the Genii scientists were finally kicked out. Kolya caught him at it and turned the lights on again.

"Dr. McKay?"

Rodney startled. He turned and saw who talked to him and then stood up from his chair so he could try to make himself work again.

"Sorry. It was too loud. I haven't been around people in too long. It's... going to take me a few minutes to recover," he said, annoyed that he sounded quiet again.

"Recover? Recover from what?" Kolya asked, like he wanted an excuse to laugh rather than wanted to know.

"Recover from _people_. There's a reason I do what I do. I don't like people. They're noisy and dumb and get in the way and touch everything that isn't theirs and they can't be trusted with the common sense of a squirrel. It's exhausting and it hurts my head," Rodney replied without hiding his annoyance. 

Kolya didn't seem offended by it. He just invited himself in the room and over to Rodney's table. That wasn't welcome but Rodney kept his opinion to himself. The Genii Commander held up a hand and revealed a key. Simple, barely more generic than a skeleton key. Rodney's eyes went wide for a heartbeat as he thought that maybe, for a second, something was going to go his way.

"John Sheppard will not leave this facility until he has paid for every life he took from the Genii," Kolya said plainly. "So you do not keep _him_. But your comfort is reasonable. And when you leave the room, he will wait there. If it becomes necessary, I will take this back, and _when_ it is necessary, he will still take your place when your work suffers from your attitude. But when you are agreeable to your work, you can keep the key."

"Understood." Rodney nodded. It took him a second to realize he had stopped breathing and he corrected the response hopefully before the psycho military commander figured it out. There were no obvious cues that he shouldn't, so Rodney took the key and tucked it into the top notebook on the stack he usually took with him back to the room. He didn't have pockets in his Genii pullover or trousers so the book was the safest spot. 

"Bring your things. You're done for the day," Kolya told him, stepping aside to clear Rodney’s path to the door. Rodney for once was disinclined to argue and he closed up his laptop and stacked the scattered notebooks. It wasn't like he usually worked on them, and he had no intentions to do so that afternoon, but he liked knowing where they were. Taking the laptop wasn't allowed, nor his backpack with his extra clothes, but the notebooks were, so they went with him.

And when they got to the room, he was let inside and no one else went near the door. If the key didn't work, it would be a bitter prank, but Rodney just closed the door on them and stood aside, waiting to see if it was really going to be that easy. They stayed out. The door locked. Simple. He looked over at John, feeling mildly ecstatic about the success. Sheppard frowned up at him from the bed.

"What'd you do?" he asked, worried. He hadn't even bothered to sit up because no one else came into the room at all.

Rodney put the books on the desk, dumped his jacket, and then found the key he had mashed into the soft inside cover of the book. "I got the key."

He dropped onto the edge of the bed and reached for John's hand. A second later, the chain weight dragged cuffs to the floor and John was scrambling to sit up and stare over the edge at them, like it was a coiled snake he had to verify the location of. He glanced sideways at Rodney, not quite believing it.

"What’s the catch?"

"I keep the key. I mean, unless I screw up again. But you only have to wear them when I'm not here."

There was a long quiet as John weighed out the trade before he finally nodded.

"Scuse me a sec," he muttered. He squared up how he sat and reached out to catch Rodney by the front of the shirt and his shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug, not encumbered by three inches of chain keeping his wrists pinned at odd angles to each other. Rodney smiled and, forgetting for just a few seconds that his friend was still healing, returned it as good as he got until his palms hit the crisscrossed scabs that still marred John’s back. He let go quickly to catch his sides again instead but John didn’t seem to notice. He pulled back to catch Rodney’s face between his hands and rest their foreheads together. Rodney saw the relief and something close enough to a smile and relaxed into the new touch. And then John tilted enough to press another kiss to his lips, and Rodney hung onto him to keep the rush from slipping away. 

John pulled back and hugged him again before carefully extracting himself from the tangle he had made to crawl to his feet and jump off the other side of the bed to get to the bathroom. Rodney kicked the chains further under the bed and moved to put the key away again. He pressed it back into the soft cover, some kind of paper-wrapped cardboard, and tried to create a more permanent pocket for it. He heard the washroom door open but, already knowing exactly who was in the room with him, it didn’t pull his attention until he registered someone behind him and hugging him around the ribs. He startled slightly before he caught up and let John tug him back a half step to set his chin on his shoulder. He watched Rodney finish up securing the key and brushed careful kisses on his neck.

"Thank you," he said, whisper quiet. Rodney nodded and dropped the closed book back on the desk. "What'd it cost ya?"

"Nothing changes really. I lose it if I screw up again like the other day."

Rodney felt the smile fade where it was tucked at his neck but John still wouldn't let go of him. "Well, do what you gotta. I'll live."

He looked down at the worn stripes on John's wrists and closed a hand over one, careful and protective, offended by its existence as much as the still healing marks on his back. At least John had stopped bleeding if he moved wrong in his sleep, and his shoulder had finally started clearing up. Rodney had a running tally of the injuries he knew about that he checked every day without admitting to, and the stripes on John's wrists were just as hard on his mind as everything else. 

"I just told him we weren't going anywhere and tried to show the idiots how to fix their reactor," Rodney said. John laughed and nodded.

"Not for a while. Need a 'gate first," he agreed.

"Or Teyla and Ronon," said Rodney. John went quiet and his arms loosened up finally. 

"Or the team," he said with a nod. He moved away to crash back on the bed, arms out to either side and as far apart as they could get, apparently because he could for the first time in weeks. " _Ow. Shit_."

Rodney made a face for it but sat down next to him. "I'm not Carson. Don't break things."

"I'm not breaking, buddy. Promised," John said. He caught at Rodney’s shirt and tugged until he lay down, too. Hazel eyes studied his face soberly. "Not leaving you behind."

* * *

There were few downsides to Rodney's chess-game confession, as John saw it. It wasn't something Rodney had meant to be found. He had buried it between games because he was panicked and alone when John had been stuck in the cell block. McKay had been upset and probably not entirely rational, all impulsiveness and fear when he picked up the pen and tried to write something down because he couldn't tell John. John had even asked Rodney to write stuff down that he thought John needed to know about, so it made sense. He put two and two together the second he read it. 

But he still had to make Rodney put actual words to it eventually because it wasn't something they could afford to get wrong. 

Curled up in the almost-dark, with just the bathroom light buzzing behind a half-closed door, the comfortable touch of Rodney’s hand around his wrist was suddenly maybe something else, and John was the one who needed an interpreter. He had gotten used to McKay letting him invade his space, and it probably only got started because John had spent two weeks on IV drugs that were supposed to just be antibiotics, but probably weren't. 

"Hey, remember when you told the doc you wanted me on painkillers?" John asked. Because that was a great way to start a conversation. Rodney nodded into his pillow and curled a little protectively over John's wrist between them. 

"Stupid bastard poisons people with swamp rot and radiation and I should have known better than-"

"McKay, _no_... He listened. He just didn't tell me about it," John interrupted the rant before it could get started. "I only found out about it because Kolya saw the nurse prep the IV and started laying into the doc for it. Kolya broke the man's nose, he was so pissed off."

Rodney lifted his head to meet John's eyes then. "Wait. Really?"

"Yeah. The day I was moved in here," said John. He grinned even though he knew Rodney couldn't see him. "Kolya only moved me out because he thought I was screwing with the doc's head to make him disobey orders. I can't cause trouble in here."

"I asked for a bed the day before you got here. Kolya kept asking me questions and I didn't understand what he wanted. So I finally just asked for a bed so I could get real sleep. And then the next day, there's you," said Rodney. 

It made sense, but it also made John a little more uncomfortable with where his head was at. "The meds they hit me with... I know they made me foggy. I wasn't thinking straight all the time. And I know I got in your face a lot... and that's not your thing."

"I- well, yes. But you're you. You... do that anyway," said Rodney. 

John almost laughed. "Look, McKay, if we've been making out on the pier for two years without me realizing it, I think I got hit on the head too hard..."

"I didn't say that," Rodney replied quickly. "I just... you are always touching people. And that... stopped here. So we had to figure out something else."

John stared at him, feeling hopeful but confused. "We?"

"You asked for stuff and I got it done, like always," said Rodney. He held up John's arm a little. "Like this. Only the other way around, usually." Rodney hesitated and then leaned in to kiss John's cheek. "And those."

He didn't move back out of John's space as far and still held his wrist. John studied him, glad for the dim light behind him that caught Rodney's face. "And you're really, really okay with that? Not just... trying to make me feel better or something."

"Pretty sure I'm good with it now," said Rodney as he rolled his eyes. John felt himself blush but mostly only because he wasn't getting his point across. 

"But _before_..."

Rodney went quiet at the trailed off question. "I- For different reasons, yes. I wanted to help you, and it helped me focus at first. I couldn't talk to anyone, not really, except you. And if it helped you then it helped me."

"That sounds like you," said John, quietly amused. Rodney frowned at him for it.

"What-"

"I guess... Look, I don't know," John spoke up just to cut him off, to keep Rodney from asking something John wouldn't have an answer for. "I guess what I'm getting at is... if it weren't for my job, would we have just... I dunno. Would we have been making out on the pier back at home instead of just drinking and complaining about aliens?"

It seemed a fair question to John. And it seemed like one he could answer out loud if he had to. Rodney stayed quiet and considered it, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"Well... with the exception of a few weeks after you shot all of us, it would have been something I would have been fine with," he finally said. "For a while, I wanted to ask Ronon to shoot you, but Teyla wouldn't have it."

"At least _he_ wouldn't have accidentally _killed_ me," said John, surprised enough to be amused by the detail. Rodney nodded. 

"That was my thinking, yes," he said. "Seemed fair at the time. Tit for tat as it were."

His voice said he was still defensive but he was still holding tight to John. "I would have gotten over it," John told him. " _Next time_ I shoot you, Ronon can shoot me."

Rodney pulled a face at that, probably unsure which part to argue on it first. John lifted his arm away from Rodney just enough to kiss the fingers that refused to let go of him. 

"So what about now? With the _other_ thing. Not the shooting," he said.

"No pier," Rodney pointed out. And he was smirking his flat, lopsided smirk. 

"Smartass," John replied.

"Genius," Rodney pointed out. In case anyone forgot. "And I still don't know how else to tell you that I like _your_ touch. So, yes, I should be kissing you right now, but we're not, so it's okay."

John stared at him, surprised to realize that Rodney McKay somehow had a mental setting of restraint, of not just doing what he wanted, when he wanted. The whole genius thing usually meant Rodney shoved other people out of the way to get things done how he wanted them. Considering the man had become at least eighty percent of John's world the last few weeks, John figured Rodney had permission, and maybe he didn't know it.

"Should fix that," John replied. He very carefully pried his wrist free from Rodney’s hold, not liking being pinned down just then, and angled up to close the distance left between them. His lips teased at Rodney’s for a heartbeat before the man was invested and kissing back. 

Since the last days of his failed marriage, John had been fussy about kissing. He loved touching, being touched, but when it got too close, he was either in it, or he wasn't. The kissing thing was a big clue; when kissing his wife could kick up a choking gag-reflex, John figured there was a problem. He loved her enough, he thought, but it didn't go away, and it was one more offense on her list. So John had become careful with kissing, always exploring just enough to make sure he wasn't going to ruin everything before diving in. And Rodney didn't make him push that, even as he reached out to hang on to John's hip and hold him closer. 

When John relaxed, Rodney pulled him in and John could get lost for a minute, the good way. With something new and safe and still familiar because it was Rodney. Leaning against him wasn't quite enough, so Rodney wiggled and pressed and snuck his way under so John was supported by the broad chest and Rodney’s hands could hold on to both sides of him. They skimmed up and along his ribs and around his back with a care that was almost intense. John wasn't going to break, had told him that, and Rodney was still touching like he was afraid to crush velvet. It was almost teasing when combined with the argument going on a bit north, because of course the man could argue with his tongue, and win it then, too.

It was fun and it felt good. For once, in the dark didn't mean dodging nightmares with meditation he was bad at and mentally rewriting old reports he had never gotten turned in or thinking up stories and math puzzles until it was safe to sleep. The fact that they could have been doing it for months back home and hadn't been just meant they had catching up to do. Out of practice and out of breath, John decided they would be making up for lost time more often than playing notebook-chess.

Everything was better than great until Rodney’s hand slid from John's hip down to his boxers, dragging the cloth just the wrong way over his ass. John startled and swore, pulled from everything fast and hard. He pushed himself up on both arms, no handcuffs to fight with as he held himself up away from where Rodney lay wide-eyed under him. Rodney lifted both hands away from him and went still, looking terrified. 

"John?"

Words stopped happening for Sheppard just then. He choked every time he tried to say something. So he stopped and, careful not to touch Rodney again, retreated to his side of the bed. He moved to open the bathroom door to let the light flood in and then crossed to the other side of the room to turn on the main light by the door. He was done. He had to be.

John paced a few times by the bed before he finally sat down again. Rodney sat up, too, and looked like John had kicked him. John tried to make his mouth work but he couldn't make words make sense between his brain and his voice. He grabbed the wadded up blanket he had long ago claimed as a jacket and curled up over his knees as his chest started to hurt and he felt himself shaking.

Rodney seemed to figure out what was going on before John did and he got up and went to the bathroom, came back with the water mug. He stayed where John could see him, and helped with the water. John managed a swallow before he shook his head and shoved the mug back before he dropped it. "No."

At least his mouth still worked. Rodney put the mug down on the desk across the room before sitting down again. He crawled close, sitting so his shoulder bumped John's and their legs touched. He was quiet for what felt like forever, which would have been perfect except it was so damn unnatural and wrong. John's jaw was trying to clench shut and chatter at the same time and it worked into his shoulders instead, so talking was still out. He leaned a little more into Rodney’s side, instead. 

"Did I do something-" The question was hardly out of Rodney’s mouth before John was shaking his head.

"No! He-" The chattered response broke off on a need to be sick, but John just shook his head and, like he had taught himself in the infirmary, breathed through his nose. It worked to get angry at himself to fight back against the physical reaction that was the worst thing screwing with his life just then. Rodney carefully set his hand palm-up on his knee next to John's, and John let go of his blanket shield to grab Rodney’s help instead. He hugged his arm to his gut and stayed curled up. But it helped. 

"S'ry," he managed. Rodney leaned close enough to kiss his jaw and it stopped trying to shatter his teeth for a second so John leaned a little more. Rodney reclaimed his left hand to trade instead for his right, letting Sheppard tug him close to his chest again while Rodney fixed the blanket and held it over his shoulders, pulled him as close as he could. 

John just collapsed the rest of the way then, feeling scared and sick and angry suddenly all at once and not knowing what to do with any of it. He couldn’t fight his way out of it. He was just a pilot without a plane to fly away from any of it. No ‘gate, no team at his back, only Rodney and his attitude and his brain between him and the door. Between them, they couldn’t even bring a knife to the gunfight outside of it. 

“I can’t...” Sheppard muttered, but finishing it wasn’t possible even if his mouth wanted to let him talk without feeling ill. The list of what he couldn’t do was too big just then. 

"The one good thing we've got going here is that you don't have to," said Rodney. "Right? You've got one job, right? And I'm fine."

That was actually kind of funny and John nodded against his friend's shoulder. "Yeah, you're great."

"So you just... hang out down here. We try not to start glowing. And it'll be okay," said Rodney. "Think positive, Colonel. You’re always ordering that at me, huh?"

"Maybe I shouldn't've."

"Too bad. You did. That's your own orders," said Rodney, and John figured he was being justifiably ruthless about it. But John was able to talk again. He nodded.

"I'll... get better." 

Rodney seemed to agree and curled a little tighter against him. They didn't move again for ages, and then it was only because Rodney would actually need to sleep at some point. And John had one job to see to. So he let go of Rodney’s arm long enough to get him to lay down again. Then he tucked up behind him again, like he had dozens of times the last few weeks. Rodney caught his wrist, hand wrapped where there would usually be a metal cuff, like he could heal the inevitable scars through sleepy willpower alone.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * * *
> 
> TW: PTSD/Panic attack


	9. Chapter 9

John didn't get better very quickly after that. It was maybe a little worse. He didn't have much to say the next morning and he locked himself back in the handcuffs without Rodney even realizing. When the soldier checked the locks, he reached for the light switch and turned it off. Rodney turned it back on as he left the room. The soldier at least pretended not to notice.

For all McKay hated it all, - where they were, why they were there, the lack of human interaction outside of John, the entire fucked up situation,- he at least had something to put his brain to during the day. And he outlined the changes that had to be made to the Genii power plant knowing that the lives he saved for it might be his own and John's. They weren't supposed to be there at all, but since they were, he was going to do what he could to keep them safe.

In the lab on his own, Rodney had taken to talking to himself out loud, even had lively arguments with Zelenka yelling back at him in his head. Those turned into emails, usually, saved to send whenever he got near a network connection again. He wasn't far gone enough to imagine Sam Carter was in the room with him, but he wrote her emails about wormhole theory and Atlantean technology that he wouldn't ever send on the networkless email program in his computer. 

Rodney had another unsent email chain that was a daily log of sorts, trying to keep track of himself, really, from what projects he had started and why and how far he had gotten. There was even a spreadsheet with a list of the notebooks he had started and he recorded if they had been completed or turned over.

Inside of six weeks, he had turned over seven small books. Messy, extended papers and treatises on basics, from theory to implementation. Most of them related to energy sources and their different hazards. If the Genii couldn't level themselves out of the dark ages with everything he had already provided, they were more stupid than he had come to give them credit for. There was one in the works on improving their computers, and Rodney desperately wished he knew how to tell them to fix their archaic TV screen computer monitors. That just wasn't his area. 

There was one notebook he guarded cautiously that dealt with what he knew of the technologies on Atlantis. That one was largely theoretical because nobody knew _how_ Atlantis operated, only what pieces did what. _Kind of._ Enough to make it integrate with the technology they had brought from Earth, anyway. It wasn't at all a perfect understanding but Rodney tried to explain what he could in small words. 

There was no point to any of it when the Genii wouldn't be able to do so much as create and program a single crystal but Rodney could prove he knew what he was doing. He wasn’t sure he was ever going to succeed in getting those notes finished enough to turn over, but it was something he could shove at Kolya when the man wanted an update on the Lantean systems.

At the end of the day, he went back to his room, let John out of the handcuffs, and felt like he was helping the Genii treat the man like a dog. The monotony of it, locking him up, letting him out, silently arguing about the light switch every morning, it was dragging. He pretended to be asleep when John talked himself into staying awake with stories about school and flying helos and getting locked up in Afghanistan when one of them crashed too close to enemy lines. It was hard to sleep through those stories, hard to sleep with the lights on. They both just wanted the safety to rest. 

But they were fed. They were alive. Rodney was satisfied they found a routine that worked, as long as he didn't yell at anybody, and as long as he kept the word _'no'_ abolished from his personal vocabulary. John was already hurt too much.

Another week passed. John’s calendar behind the door soon enough reported that they had been locked up together for four weeks. That meant nearly two months away from Atlantis. And John had gotten quieter. He was stronger, though. His shoulder had been steadily healing and the stripes on his back were scars now. Rodney was pretty sure that the Colonel had been doing pushups or situps or something, though he had yet to catch him at it.

Rodney made the request - again - and was given a couple of shirts for his roommate. One of them was the one from the infirmary and the jammer was still sewn on. The stain on the shoulder had been treated but was still visible. Rodney moved the jammer to the front of the shirt so it wouldn't drag on John's back before letting him have it. 

John said his _thank you_ s with wonderful, deep kisses and he still bumped shoulders and hips and took up the same space as Rodney whenever possible. But he would dodge away from anything at all like the daydream he had shared of making out on the pier. And he kept writing out _sorry_ in Rodney's own bastardized algebraic notation along the edges of the chess matches and it was maddening. But Sheppard obviously didn't want to talk about it. Rodney finally tried because it wasn't making sense, the back and forth of _stay close_ but _stay back_.

"Is there something I can do? Or- or _not_ do?" Rodney asked, feeling exactly as stupid for asking the question out loud as he did for thinking it and worrying about it. John looked up at him from the sudoku puzzle he had made at the back of the chess book; they had chess on one side and John was steadily filling it up from the other end with other things as the lights were left on in the days. 

"I thought you didn't like sudoku?" Sheppard asked, clueless expression allowing for the surprised offense that he didn't already know something about Rodney McKay. Rodney fluffed up about it a little despite himself.

"I never said I didn't _Like_ it. It's math, it's fine, but it's generally a waste of time is all, more than a _game_ ," said Rodney. John smirked at him.

"A game more than two thousand years in the making is a waste of time," he observed sagely. Rodney prodded at John's thigh with the toe of his boot in mild retaliation for the taunt. 

"To clarify, I didn't mean _sudoku_ ," he said. John's grin faded. 

"Nope. I'm on it," he said, getting right back on the math game on the page. Rodney bumbled through because he had started it and was stuck with it. 

"I didn't mean to hurt you, and I think if I knew what I did, I could _not_ do it again-" 

"You didn't, McKay. That's all, okay? You didn't do anything, nothing wrong," said John. He still wouldn't look up, which wasn't him. John normally wouldn't _not_ stare. Now it didn't even look like he saw the book in his lap that he was focused on.

"I did _something_ ," Rodney said, frustrated. "I was there too, remember? I don't know-"

"Thank god you don't," John interrupted, looking up slightly. His eyes met Rodney’s but he kept his head lowered for a fast escape. His voice sounded rough, working like he was having trouble breathing. "I _can't_... look, I'm _not_ gonna get into it with you. All I can promise is I'm doing what I can. If it's gotta be more than that right now, I'll point you to the ex-wife and you and her can have a few drinks to compare notes. Maybe she can convince you it's not your fault I'm broke if you won't hear me."

Rodney huffed a laugh at that. Sometimes he wondered if John's memory was clouded. "Right. Soon as I get us a 'gate that can get back to the Milky Way."

"Exactly." John started scribbling in the book again.

"I'll get right on that. Right after the rest of the list," Rodney said, frustration in his tone. He folded up for a moment at the head of the bed, not settled at all. He needed a translation but he didn't know anyone other than Sheppard who spoke _flyboy_. 

“You said you _weren’t_ broke,” he pointed out, annoyed enough to be blunt. John nodded and shrugged.

“Different broke, then. The bastard can’t break what was broke before we got here.” he said, completely fine with it. And then the man went quiet and scratched numbers at his game on the page. Finally, annoyance and confusion winning out, Rodney reached across the bed and pulled the book from John's hands and the pen with it and went to the chess games.

John moved up to lean against the wall with him, settled back close enough to brush shoulders as he waited for his turn. He had a shirt on but still grabbed the blanket he hoarded to wrap up in as an extra layer off the rough wall. And Rodney noticed like always and scowled at the book propped on his knee. He started the game and passed it over.

Rodney’s problem was his own problem, and it wasn't with John. 

One day, after Rodney had been working for four hours, one of the soldiers stepped into the room and started messing with the Genii box-set computers set in a corner by the door. Rodney tried to ignore her, but it didn't quite work. What she was doing looked way too familiar.

"What's happened?" he asked.

"There was a problem. It's being handled, and the Commander said you need to be aware of it," she replied. Rodney moved over and watched the screens from a few feet behind her. The picture wouldn't come in clearly on either screen. They both kept scrolling, unable to lock on a steady signal. The scramblers definitely still worked. 

That was suddenly a problem for Rodney. He couldn't see what was going on in the brig, but he knew John was there because the fake-jammer sewn on the man's shirt was weakly rolling the TV signal. John hadn’t been wearing the damn shirt when he was waterboarded and Rodney had really, really needed _not_ to witness or hear the attack, but now that he had his shirt back and the scrambler on it, when Rodney didn't have a clue what was going on, he couldn't see the screen clearly.

What had seemed like a good idea at the time, a good way to placate Kolya while also screwing with his plans, was now in the way of Rodney making sure John was alright. He thought he saw John sprawled against the wall at the back of the cell, but it was hard to tell when it was an overly-static screen and John's off-white linen clothes glowed a little against the dark stone and bars of the cells. 

It had to be John, though.

"What happened? Why-"

"He caused a scene in the hallway at the usual rounds," said the soldier, frowning. "Commander Kolya had to change his detail. And he'll be there awhile for it."

A _scene_? In the _hallway_. How could John cause a scene when he was locked in the room? Only if he wasn't locked in the room. Or if someone had gone in.

"I need to go see him," said Rodney. The lady soldier shook her head. 

"You're to stay here, Dr. McKay. But that's all I know. I'm sorry," she said, and she sounded like she meant it. That didn't help Rodney at all. He looked around the room when she left it again, spotting the boxy camera set up angled in the corner over the door. It was positioned behind a series of cross beams that kept it from Rodney's sight at his usual station. And Rodney was bad at remembering to look up when he walked out the door. 

So there they were, back on _Kolya TV_. Scrambled and indecipherable. And he couldn't tell if John was okay or not. Because Rodney had a genius idea, and put it in place because he knew nobody around him would be smart enough to catch him at it, and because it was the only way he could fight back at the time. It didn't seem to be a very effective defense tactic, as it turned out. It was going to drive him slightly bonkers until he fixed the fix. Being the smartest man in the room didn't mean much when a) there was no one else in the room, and b) he still punked himself in the end.

Rodney broke into the jammer pouch on his shirt and tried to stop the scrambler's broadcasting temporarily. He gave up and snapped one of the wires off. He could see himself on the screen suddenly, but John still warbled. It cleaned up the picture a little better though, and the rolling slowed down. 

John stood up from the wall and, moving carefully, crossed to the front of the cell, a blur of white in a staticky screen. It almost looked like he waved. Rodney took that to be a good sign. He relocated his work so he was closer to the cameras and tried to at least look productive. He wasn't. 

Rodney wasn't allowed out of the lab for three days. When he saw John again, there was another fading handprint bruise around his neck and forearm. And he had the doctor's orders not to talk. Rodney put a notebook in his hand and John put it on the desk and went to lay down instead. Rodney sat up against the wall in his usual spot, not sure what else to do. Eventually John rolled closer, slung his arm over Rodney's thighs to hug him, and buried his face in his jacket at his hip. And then didn't move for five hours. All Rodney could really do to help was card his fingers through John's messy hair and rub his arm.

He wasn't told what happened. John eventually just told him it wasn't worth worrying about. And he stayed in Rodney's space whenever Rodney was in the room. He was otherwise the same, as far as McKay could tell. Not normal, but coherent and lucid and tuned-in, usually scribbling in the chess book at some game or another. Quiet. Waiting for Rodney.

It didn't really help that Rodney still had a _job_ again after that. He hadn't been lying when he told Kolya it was no different than any other government swap in his career. He wasn't able to work with computers as much as he wanted to, but everything else was essentially the same. Puzzle out the problem, write the theory to get it fixed, build the code to program, design the specs for someone else to machine what he needed if he couldn't scrounge the parts. Leave the room at seven am on his watch - who the hell knew what time it really was there - and come back at somewhere after nine pm. Some place to go at the same time, same place, every day, same Bat channel. Routine. Boring. Predictable. Not a single damn crisis in sight except John. 

And John could touch but Rodney was still afraid to touch back, so he didn't. He waited for kisses and hugs and didn't ask. He didn't know what the hell to make of that one and tried to give up figuring it out. It was crazy-making and whenever Kolya showed up in the labs with some idiot scientist or another, all Rodney could concentrate on was how much he wanted to cause the Commander _irreparable_ harm.

It made talking to the other scientists more difficult because Rodney was a terrible liar and if he spent too much time thinking about things like _explosions_ , the words always somehow magically appeared on his tongue if not on his face. And Kolya still didn't trust him enough not to notice those little details. So Rodney had to focus on stupid things that weren't important, like delegation of research to the locals in search of a conducting material that wasn't an earth-only property but could serve the same chemical purpose. Build himself a better computer with some out of the box thinking and maybe he could win the Nobel next time he got himself home. 

One night when Rodney got back to the room, the light was off because the guard's sense of self-preservation was apparently stronger than his appreciation for the scientist trying to save him from radiation poisoning. And, Rodney noticed quickly once the light was turned on, John was sporting a black eye. He seemed otherwise fine.

"What happened?" McKay demanded, the moment the door was closed. John sat up and waved him over for the key. Rodney retrieved it from the inside pocket of his jacket and let John loose from the cuffs. It got him soundly kissed before John disappeared as he usually did.

Rodney leaned on the desk, arms crossed as he scowled at the floor. Anger was his default position lately, whereas it had once been simple exasperation with the morons that he shared breathing space with in the labs at home. Now, pure hatred and anger and frustration built their way up from a helplessness he had spent his life holding off by being smarter than the problem. 

Rodney wasn’t sure when it happened, but the panic attacks had traded off for rage that... definitely wasn't smart. Maybe the radiation was getting to him. _Shit._ He was going to have to get the doctor testing people.

"Kolya did a drop-in," John said as he walked back into the room. "And I was asleep, so the light was on. So I told him I could reach it, that I've been turning it back on after you leave."

Rodney frowned at that. If ever there was a no-win scenario, it was _that_. Rodney was the one who always turned the light on. And John would have been punished worse for that, because there would have been god-knows-what kind of punishment, Rodney would have had to watch it, _and_ they would have lost the key. So Rodney didn't bother arguing about the lie.

"So then what happened? Do you need checked out-"

John shook his head. "So he made me show him I could do it, which, you know, I can when I can see the damn thing, I just have to kinda kick the switch. I _might_ have told him it's not our fault the grunts can't measure a length of chain, and I got decked. And they shortened the chain, so that trick is out."

John seemed almost cheerful about the whole thing. Rodney felt off-center and confused. 

"So you’re okay?" he asked. John shrugged and nodded.

"I'm... better."

Rodney frowned at the evade and shook his head. He slouched against the desk and thought it over. John moved to stand next to him, mirroring him as an excuse to bump his shoulder as he crossed his arms and ankles over the soft Genii shoes. With the exception of the shiner, John looked like he had gone native, while Rodney still had his uniform in the rotation. If they ever got John out into the halls again, he could pass as anybody else that Rodney had to work with every day, aside from the messy hair and the once-a-week shave. 

"Look, I got away easy on this one, okay? I didn't screw anything up, He still thinks I'm nice and broke-in and tame, and I didn't get hurt for it." John said. "It was a win. I'm taking it."

"Aren't you, though?" Rodney asked, blunt as usual. "If we were anywhere else-"

"If we were anywhere else, we wouldn't be here anymore," said John. 

"So? Why are we still here, if he's not right?" replied Rodney. John visibly faded.

"I'm on a goddamned leash but not dead yet," he said. "You want to make a run for it? Get MRE's and a map out of this place and off the planet and we can be gone tomorrow morning. Otherwise, any chance we take is a suicide run. Last I knew, we're somewhere underground, and there's no stargate. I'm on one meal a day rations, and not that many weeks from half-dead. You'll last four hours on a hike without food, and whatever we do, it'll be running. We'd run, just to end up where we started off. I don't want to go back that far. That... wasn't fun."

His voice had that thick gasp under it, like John was choking on the last few words. He _wasn't_ better. 

"If I wasn't here, what would you have done by now?" Rodney asked. " _You_ wouldn't have stayed. There would be something-"

John shook his head and glanced over at him briefly before finding a spot on the floor easier to look at. "Nope."

"Tell me."

"I'd have been _dead_ by now. I never would have made it out of the cells the first time," said John. "And you're going to get me tossed back in there if you keep thinking about it this hard."

It took a few seconds but John realized what he had said and shook his head again. "Sorry. That's... not what I meant. Sounded wrong."

Rodney sat up a little taller, his chin up against the blow. He knew John wasn't wrong, though, otherwise Rodney wouldn't even be asking about it. "Or I take out a city full of people and... we see what happens."

John seemed to freeze and he actually looked up at him then, eyes wide. "There's a _nuclear reactor_ somewhere in that city full of people," he reminded him. Rodney nodded.

"And I can make it fail. They either leave us here, or... we evacuate when they do."

"Right..." John still stared at him, something on his face that Rodney didn't understand. "Just like that. We see what happens."

"Or we don't. We stay. You get hurt. And I work for the Genii," said Rodney. "Until I absolutely snap, anyway, because the food here does not make up for the lack of vitamin D, and access to sunlight and fresh air would greatly increase our overall odds of survival. Radiation poisoning notwithstanding."

"How close are we talking to the snap-thing?" John asked. "Because... you sound a little close from here."

Rodney held up his hand, finger and thumb about an inch apart. "Little close."

John stood up from the edge of the desk and moved to sit on the bed. He was working at his lower lip with his teeth like he did when he was anxious, and it struck Rodney that he had learned a lot about his friend in two months. 

John still surprised him by asking, "Am I making it worse, or better? Being here, I mean."

Rodney blinked at him. "Better," he said automatically. John gave him the face with the eyebrow up and the corner of his lips down.

"Yes. _Better_ , John," Rodney insisted. "Otherwise I know you're somewhere else, getting hurt, and it's my fault. I already know the sum total of the scars, I don't want them added to."

"You don't have the total," replied John. Rodney rolled his eyes at the challenge. 

"Your wrists. Three gashes on your shoulder. Four more on your arms. Twenty five stripes on your back."

John's eyes widened at the list. "Shit, twenty five?"

"That I can tell," said Rodney. John had to sit with that for a bit. Then he shook his head.

"Fine. But you're still short," he said. He put a hand to his hip and tried to lift his shirt away. His pants were kept snug because he was sitting, so John stood up again, frustrated. He was able to uncover the edge of the stripe that cut across his hips, without turning it into some kind of show. Then he sat back down. "That was from the desk. The top edge. It just... cut in and I couldn't, uh, couldn't keep my legs under me. Kinda... made it worse."

Rodney stared at him, confused as much as angry all over again. "Jesus, John, don't-"

"Yeah, well, I’m not showing off the rest. I just- I started something with you that I'm a long way from being okay with finishing," John said, talking over him. "And I... didn't want to go into it. But you were there, too, so... if I'm making it worse, we have to... sort it out somehow."

"I told you, you're not making it worse," said Rodney. And John nodded.

"And I told you it wasn't your fault. But it's been over a week and you're ready to, what, _nuke_ the _city_? I get it, and I'm sorry, and it's _still_ nothing you did," replied John. 

"That's not..." Rodney stopped as he considered the point. Okay. Maybe John was closer to right than was reasonable. "Okay, but it isn't _just_ that."

John offered a mild grin for it but he shook his head. "Doesn't matter. That was _part_ of it, and I saw it, and I was just too... chickenshit to deal with it. So... dealing with it now. Averting uncomfortable nuclear meltdowns I don't want to have to explain to anybody. Ever."

"Adding to the injury list does not produce a calming response," replied Rodney. John rolled his eyes.

"The injury wasn't the point. The point was, if we keep it north of the equator then I can try, but if I gotta back off, it's not _your_ fault," he said. He was stubborn and trying, but he still kept choking on words. "I've been weird with this stuff forever. My ex hated me for it. The marriage lasted a year because that didn't even fix me. And Kolya... These bastards didn't help. If you can't believe me, I've at least got _proof_."

That hurt, but it was probably fair. Rodney couldn’t even figure out how to apologize for it. He stood and moved to sit next to John. 

"I believed you. I think. I... don't know. Honestly," he said. 

"It's fine. Just... I mean it. You didn't do anything, okay?" John was back to staring at him, close enough that there was no easy way to hide. So Rodney nodded. The keys against the door outside startled him, and John stood up and quickly left the room before it opened.

Rodney sat where he was and waited as the food was dropped off. He was hungry and exhausted suddenly. Probably stress. So he barely acknowledged the soldier who dropped off the food and just waited for them to leave again. The food sat on the tray until John came back and he shoved a plate at Rodney when he sat down again. When dinner was gone, Rodney caught John by the hand and pulled him into a tight hug, because he couldn't think of anything else that would fix it. He figured nuclear reactor meltdowns probably weren’t the right track, though.

* * *


	10. Chapter 10

There weren’t a lot of people on any planet, in any galaxy, that would be willing to nuke an entire city because of John Sheppard. Especially when that city had gone to a lot of effort to jump whenever Rodney McKay told them to. It was a damn big realization for Sheppard and he had to sit with it for a few hours. With Rodney in his arms. It was where he wanted to be, and where John wanted him to be in the first place. If they couldn’t be home at Atlantis, cheating at chess and arguing about it over the table in the mess, programming their own games on the old consoles, or racing stupid radio control cars in the lower levels, he could at least hang on to Rodney there, where they could keep each other safe. It was _close enough_ to where they both wanted to be. 

It was a kind of brain fog to realize that they were that tuned in to each other. Rodney certainly didn't hate him yet, anyway. John couldn’t get words to work anymore half the time, and he couldn’t explain things right, but he could figure out when Rodney was stuck in his head about it. And Rodney was picking up on more from him than John had been prepared to deal with. He couldn’t fix it. But he could hang on and try to get them through it. 

The mornings sucked but John wasn’t going to say so out loud. He just closed himself in the wash room and leaned against the wall, by himself. Practice to shore himself up. Last chance to move and pretend at freedom for a few minutes before he got locked down. The shackles were nauseating, the chain leash was redundant, but the locked door at least made sense; Kolya knew what John could do when let loose in empty hallways with even the threat of a weapon. John was well past hating the man but he couldn’t blame him for a locked door.

Most days, John avoided looking in the mirror that hung from the wall. He hadn’t really seen his own reflection in a month aside from side glances that couldn’t be dodged as he walked into the room or for shaving when Rodney snuck in the razor. But he had to see what McKay saw this time, otherwise it would bother him in the dark all day. If John was doing time for taking out eighty Genii soldiers, what the hell was worth taking out the whole city? 

John leaned over the sink after washing his face and eventually managed to make himself look up. He had been expecting the bruise but was a little surprised by the dark circles and sharper features from losing too much weight too fast. The scruffy face needed a shave again, and his hair was an inch or so longer, just long enough it curled behind his ears and couldn’t figure out if wanted to lie heavy on top of his head or curl up in the all over cowlick that he had been cursed with forever. It was almost like half his head was working toward a mohawk and the other half was just growing out so he could fit in with some surfer crowd back in California. 

John could actually laugh at his hair. The rest... yeah, that worried him. He had told Kolya this wasn’t how he wanted to go out but he looked closer to gone than he had realized. 

He wasn’t quite expecting it when the door opened and he stepped aside, surprised when Rodney stared in at him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked. John blinked at him. They had avoided that question for weeks. And there it was, next to a mirror.

“Uh... sure,” John said, the answer automatic more than conscious. He was stuck in his head and realized after he said something that he didn’t know what part of the broad question he was even answering. Rodney frowned and let himself into the room. _Because why not_. He tucked himself behind the closed door and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, and seemed content to wait John out for something. Not sure what to do, John turned the water on and made to wash his face again, just as an excuse to do something.

“You already did that,” Rodney pointed out. “You’ve been in here five minutes already and washed your face three times. I heard it.” 

John looked up at him in the mirror, struck suddenly by the difference in the view. It was a hard contrast. Rodney looked like himself in the reflection. He had shaved not that long ago, and even tamed his curly, fluffy hair for the day already. John didn’t look like himself, and Rodney looked fine. That was the goal, right? Rodney was safe. Mission, so far, still successful. It was stupid, but Sheppard smiled back at him for it. He wasn’t entirely useless, locked up in a jail cell the whole time after all. 

“Not awake yet,” John told him, the only logic he had for it. Rodney squinted at him but eventually nodded. 

“Listen, I had a thought,” he began, his voice quieter for whatever the thought had kicked up for him. He unfolded his arms and held up the key to the cuffs that he had been guarding for a few weeks. “I think I should leave this with you. So you can take care of yourself while I’m out. And you don’t have to ask anybody for it.”

John stared, mouth hanging open for a few precious seconds. “What - I’ll lose it...”

Rodney reached forward and caught the hem of John’s shirt, pulling at the pouch with the fake-jammer in it until John faced him. He slipped the key inside the drawstring top edge and then closed it up again. “You can’t lose it there.”

That made sense and John nodded. Then he tugged Rodney’s jacket to pull him over for a kiss, and he leaned back against the sink cabinet, to keep him close. He hadn’t made out in a bathroom since he was married and the tiny room was suddenly a lot less intimidating in the stifling size. Suddenly it was cozy and warm instead of empty and cold. 

The door in the other room opened loudly before they had thought about letting go of each other. 

“Shit,” they both said at once, catching their breath as Rodney tried to get the door out of their way. He managed it and John made himself small to step aside and let him out first. McKay was straightening his coat as he left and John was trying not to think about the key in the leather pocket sewn on his shirt. He kept his eyes down and accidentally bumped right into Rodney when the man stopped suddenly in front of him.

“Well. You weren’t kidding, were you?” came an unexpected voice. It wasn’t Kolya. John looked up suddenly, surprised to see Chief Cowen standing in front of the open door of their cell. Kolya stood beside him in front of the desk, looking like himself, only somehow more obnoxiously smug about it. 

“Kidding about what?” asked Rodney. His voice said he was just as shocked as John felt. Cowen nodded toward John. 

“The formidable Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard whored himself out in the interests of saving his own skin,” said the Genii leader. John felt rage more than embarrassment and started to step forward, head up, before he remembered his place. He had been working for two months to stay unseen. He couldn’t let Cowen kill it in five seconds. He felt air getting stuck in his throat and had to focus on breathing through it around the need to defend himself. The anger burned and he felt his face flush, so he looked back down and stepped to the side, forcing himself to put Rodney between himself and the two men’s line of sight. He caught the back of Rodney’s jacket to keep him there.

“Go to hell,” Rodney told the man, chin up boldly even if he wasn’t exactly helping anything. Cowen laughed. 

“Yours, apparently,” the Chief said. “Commander Kolya said you’ve been updating our nuclear facilities here, as much as you don't like them. He has promised me a tour.”

“That’s nice. I had things scheduled for the day that weren’t that,” replied Rodney. John tugged on the jacket in a hint but kept his eyes fixed determinedly on his shoulder. 

“Sheppard,” said Kolya in the familiar growl.

And _there_ it was.

John hesitated. It was a test, on both sides. Rodney was looking to see what kind of room they had on the leash, and Kolya was looking to shorten it. Rodney stepped back a half step, to keep John behind him, and that was a sure-fire way to cause pain. John caught his belt and held him still before stepping carefully away. He moved to the side and over to the two Genii, because he had one job and he was healthy enough to do it. Rodney bit his tongue and didn’t express his opinion verbally, but he crossed his arms and scowled at Kolya so hard John could practically feel it against the back of his neck. Kolya grinned and waved John toward the chains at the wall across the room from where he stood.

John was actually somewhat grateful for getting out of that one easy and headed quickly for the shackles. He wasn’t expecting to be met there by the soldier unlocking the lead chains from the cuffs. He came up short and stood still as the guard locked his wrists into the cuffs again. Then, with John sufficiently restrained, the soldier caught his elbow and pulled him toward the hall. 

“After you, gentlemen,” he heard Kolya say with his smug, dark cheer. John stood just outside the door, eyes down when he wasn’t sneaking a look back into the room. Rodney walked by, looking pale, for the same reasons John was feeling anxious. They had not-exactly enjoyed a pretty predictable few weeks and there was usually a very definite screw-up required for John to be allowed out of the room, and he only ever made it as far as the cells when that happened. Cowen changed things. Cowen wasn’t supposed to be involved at all. Rodney was thinking the same as John, apparently.

“I take it the alliance with Atlantis fell through then, since we’ve been gone,” Rodney asked, annoyance clear in his tone. 

“Director Weir turns out to have not been as useful as we were originally promised,” said Cowen. “And your Dr. Beckett couldn’t figure out how to get rid of a pox that hit two of our colonies. At this point, I see no sense in wasting our time with it.”

“A pox? There’s-” Rodney echoed. John stepped a bit quick and landed on the back of Rodney’s bootheel to trip him up rather than let the scientist dig too far into that topic. The soldier held him back a step to let the other three move ahead.

“Sorry,” John mumbled, and Rodney glanced back at him. 

“Yes. A pox your people are strangely immune to. The rumors were that your doctors had cured it on other planets, but it’s been six weeks and there’s been no change for my people,” said Cowen. “At this point, I think we would get better results asking you to take care of it, from the praise our scientists have been heaping on your arrogant shoulders, Dr. McKay.”

“I... I don’t deal with sick people,” Rodney said, at least his usual level of awkward. “So no. Wrong kind of doctor.”

So Cowen and Kolya started tag-teaming nuclear project questions off of Rodney from either side of him as they walked a few feet ahead of John and his two guards. He lifted his head enough to take note of where they were going, relieved when they moved past the turn that would have taken them to the cells. John’s head cleared of the surprise the further they got from the cells and the implications of Cowen’s presence seemed to sink in heavier as they moved through the hallways. It started to actually hurt and burned the back of his throat. 

“Kolya,” John finally said, interrupting Rodney as he outlined the importance of the protective gear for the people who worked near the reactors. Kolya ignored him so John tried again, adding a little more force to it. Rodney slowed down a step and turned his attention to Kolya, which annoyed the Commander enough that he looked back at John.

“What, Sheppard?”

John met his eyes then. “How long has the stargate been repaired?”

The Commander smiled. “Two months.”

Rodney stopped to stare at Kolya then, but the man just caught his arm and turned him back toward their destination. 

“So... about the time your people got the bug, huh?” John asked. That got Cowen’s attention and the big man stopped and peered back at John.

“What are you getting at?” Chief Cowen asked. John smiled a little and stood almost relaxed between the two guards, enjoying the surprise that registered on Kolya’s face.

“I had a four-man team on this rock, _sir_ ,” said Sheppard. “Kolya only got two of us. And it sounds an awful lot like they made it home just fine. Because Doc Beckett’s been sitting on the cure for that pox of yours for almost a year. And at least a few lab samples of the virus itself for comparison.”

Rodney looked at John slightly wide-eyed before he smiled back at what he was hearing. Cowen went red in the face as he came to the same conclusion that John and Rodney had arrived at: the Genii had been _played_. 

“Director Weir is anything but useless, sir, I promise you that. There are few people I’d be afraid to be on the wrong side of, and she’s at the top of that list,” said John. Cowen’s eyebrows inched up.

“I’m sorry, was that a threat?” the Chief asked.

John shook his head quick enough. He held his hands up in easy illustration. “Nope. I’m not exactly in a position to be handing those out. But I am stuck here, too. Same as your people. So whatever she brings down on you here, it’ll hit Rodney and me, too. So I figure... fair warning.”

Cowen didn’t appreciate the heads up much, but his scowl lifted on the edges. “It’s been two months, Sheppard. She can’t find this place. And even if she could, she can’t reach anyone here. So thank you for the concern, but shut your mouth.”

John raised his hands again to toss off a lazy salute. Whatever they were in for at this point, there was no way Kolya would buy the meek and tame routine again, so Sheppard would just shut up and stick to his job. Kolya pulled Rodney aside then and waved the soldiers forward with John to lead the way. Cowen could say what he wanted, but John had at least spooked Kolya. He would take that win, gladly.

* * *

The walk to the heart of the underground city wore John down more than he wanted to admit, maybe especially to himself. He felt the cold of the place in his shoulder and he shivered as he watched his breath on the air. Everyone around him had jackets. John had thick linen clothes and shoes that were little better than hard-sole slippers. He stayed close to the soldiers babysitting him just to try to steal heat. 

It was somehow worse when he was left on his own in an empty room with hooks on the walls where there used to be the Genii version of hazmat suits. They hadn't passed Rodney's standards, but Kolya didn't offer him much chance to refuse. He had found another metal switch off one of the desks they had walked near a level up, and John heard it swishing so he knew Rodney knew it was there. And Kolya turned the lights off in the room on his way out. The guards waited out in the hall. So John sat on the floor against the wall and waited for them to bring Rodney back.

He was half asleep when they did, too tired between the walk and the cold to realize he had nodded off until the light turned on again. He got to his feet and stood near Rodney as he peeled out of the suit to hang it up. Rodney caught the shiver and rubbed at his arms to help John warm up as the other two were still trying to figure out how to work the suits. He ducked just enough to rest his forehead to Rodney's and tried to shore up for the walk back.

Rodney seemed calmer, more worried in a broader sense than worried about their immediate safety. Kolya still squinted at John for the acting skills of the last month, but he caught Rodney by the arm so they could lead Cowen back to Rodney's lab. John followed behind, yawned and slouched. There would be no trouble from him. There was no reason to start any until they had a better understanding of the lay of the land. So far, Rodney had a good idea how to get to the reactor, which did absolutely no good when John wanted to get to the surface. To the stargate. So they would wait.

In the lab, John was deposited on the padded bench inside the black lines and his babysitters stayed by the door, which he personally thought was nice of them. He had enough to worry about with Kolya taking up his breathing space, so it was good not to have the two additional batons, knives, or guns aimed his way. 

Rodney had Cowen and Kolya's undivided attention. Cowen wanted to see the notebooks. He was particularly interested in the notes about the Lantean technology. Considering he couldn't get his hands on any, especially now that he had burned his bridges with Elizabeth, it seemed moot, but Rodney pulled out the hard-bound notebook that John had skimmed through a few times over the last month. There wasn't anything in it that the Genii could use without a serious overhaul of their entire technical capacity. And McKay couldn't spend all of his working time writing down the contents of his brain for them while simultaneously backwards engineering Lantean tech. That just wasn't humanly possible. Which, of course, is what Cowen wanted.

"Yes, I am aware that you want the Lantean advancements built in to your systems, but that would require dropping everything else," Rodney told the man, displaying a surprising amount of patience, considering it was Rodney. "Literally everything else I'm doing would have to stop. Your reactor program would have to be stopped because I would need a team _that_ size to start working on the crystals _alone_. You don't have the industry required to build the individual pieces, let alone the technological capacity to connect them. You don't even have a computer system capable of the _color spectrum_ their monitors can display!"

"That is the entire reason you are here," said Cowen. "And you're telling me it isn't possible?"

" _No_ ," replied Rodney, glaring at the archaic monitor on the long countertop off Cowen's shoulder. "I'm _telling you_ that these things you want are going to take time, and I only got here two months ago. And, incidentally, I didn't ask to be here, so kindly stop acting like it's _my fault_ the entirety of the Genii civilization is sixty years behind _my_ people and _ten thousand years_ behind the Lanteans."

Across the room, John tensed, knowing he would be paying for that comment sooner or later. 

"We are only behind because we have had to contend with cullings," replied Cowen, "Which, as I understand it, your people did _not_. And your people cost us an additional fifty years of development by waking them early."

"Don't be stupid. That was just a few hives. You know as well as I do that they don't go completely dormant as a species, they just... Alternate _nap_ times," said Rodney. It was physically impossible for the man to contain his distaste for some humans, and it was very obvious that he was stuck dealing with two of them that he very much hated. Just to validate the feelings, Kolya snapped his fingers and looked over at John.

"Sheppard. Come here, or I have you relocated," the Commander ordered. _Relocated_ was just enough of a broad term that John didn't want to risk it and he pushed himself unhappily up from the bench. One soldier from the door shadowed him, while the other moved toward Rodney. And then there was Kolya, who still had the metal pointer from the walk to the reactor. _Yep. This was gonna suck._

Kolya grabbed John by the arm and he stood where he was told, still and trying to make himself relax. It was just like taking a fall in a fight; if he wasn't braced for it, he wouldn't hurt himself. Kolya seemed content enough with the response but the man was still just as pissed off as Cowen was for the fight from Rodney. The fact that they had been in his face for hours and McKay hadn't given them that much pushback yet was, frankly, miraculous, but John figured it wasn't a great idea to point that out. Rodney stared at him, wide-eyed and pale as the guard caught him and pulled him back.

The threat was plenty enough and Rodney rushed out an apology. Not that it did any good. The guard from the door showed up to help restrain Sheppard, but John dodged the effort by grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling it up over his head so they wouldn't have to ruin another one. He had to be careful with this shirt or they might lose the key and that would be worse than the trip to the infirmary. He leaned on the edge of the tall countertop and waited, hands clenched on the rim to help remind himself not to fight back. 

"Jeezus, John, _don't_ ," Rodney said, and the panic in his voice got louder as he looked to Kolya and Cowen. "Okay, I get it!" 

"Doubtful," replied Kolya. "Otherwise I think you would be outlining for us exactly how you plan to get the Lantean designs converted to something our people can work with."

"Eventually, yes, I can, but not-" Rodney's voice broke off as the metal wire snapped across John's back. 

John hadn't been expecting it because he had been listening to Rodney, so it surprised the both of them. His knee buckled under him and he had to lean over the big island work table for support. Maybe he misjudged his ability to handle it and, even though he didn't want the pain in his wrists from the cuffs digging in, he should have let the guard hold him down again. _Everything_ sucked and John felt his anger climbing, just to make it all harder.

"Okay! Computer first!" Rodney jumped as Kolya raised his arm again, trying to get the Commander's attention back. "Okay? We update your reactors so nobody dies before we can freaking use their brains, and we work on the computers at the same time!"

"That's better," said Kolya. John let out a breath and buried his face in his hands on the countertop at the first sign that he was off the hook.

"You realize I can't do these things myself?" Rodney asked. He was rambling now, anything to keep Kolya from asking for more impossible things. "I will need people to work with and-and to even build the things because I don't know what you have available in the first place-"

"You have access to these things," Kolya said. 

"Yes, but the point is, it takes _time_!"

"You have less of that," said Kolya. "We need access to weapons sooner, not later."

"Yes, well-"

The pointer snapped again and John bit back a shout. He was gonna kill Kolya someday and John squeezed his eyes shut to focus on the hundreds of different ways he could choose from to do it. 

"Hey! There was no cause for that!" Rodney shouted. And Kolya responded by catching John's arm and pulling him back to his feet, away from the support of the heavy work table. He was smiling and John fisted his hands so he wouldn't reach for the man's throat. He hadn't been strong enough before, he wasn't now. This was Kolya's show, just politics. Kolya wanted back in with Cowen, and he had to have the power to leverage for it. And John and Rodney had both challenged his control already.

"The _cause_ was, Dr. McKay, that I chose to. Now, are you going to remember your place or does this continue?" Kolya asked. Rodney nodded. Kolya tugged on John's arm and raised the pointer to actually point, over at the bench again. "Go. Sit."

So John sat where he was told, glad for only two new stripes across his shoulders, and listened to Rodney struggle to focus on what he would need put in place to move the theoretical computer from his notes into a functional, working machine that could get the Genii closer to both their weaponized nuclear program and the more efficient technology of the Ancients.

The man could do some truly amazing things when he had enough adrenaline in his system. And John hated it.

* * *

There was blood on the bench by the time Rodney safely convinced Kolya to get John to the infirmary. He ultimately just had to hope the guards actually took him where Kolya ordered them to. That still left Rodney in the lab for another hour, writing out lists and explaining what kind of experts they would need to find and relocate for him. He could give them all the theory they wanted, but none of it was any good without someone in place who could translate it into the resources that the Genii already had, or even just someone who could let Rodney know if the resources existed in the first place. 

They had seen enough and Cowen wanted to move into the more tangible stage. The idiot said he had lost the notebooks on alternative power sources, so Rodney had very little faith any of the production line daydreams the Genii leader had would ever manage to happen. He didn't dare make that observation out loud, however. He was freaking exhausted and _done_ with all things _humanity_ and a little voice in the back of his head said the nausea was equal parts fear as it was simply lack of food. They hadn't exactly stopped for breakfast that morning, and that was six hours earlier. 

"Look, I'm going to either be sick or pass out in about five minutes. If this is supposed to continue, I'm going to need food. That's just fact," Rodney pointed out finally. Kolya looked to Cowen and helpfully explained that the doctor would get sick without regular meals, which came in quite useful in Kolya's opinion. And it had been well over twelve hours since the last one. Cowen considered it before nodding.

"We're done for the day. Tomorrow is soon enough to get started," he decided. Rodney tried not to glare. 

"What's starting tomorrow, then?" he asked. Cowen smiled.

"We're relocating you. This is a small outpost and the resources you need are elsewhere," he said. Rodney was glad he had already been sitting down for that news. It wasn't like they had very good odds of being rescued after so long as it was, but moving to another planet only seemed to make their prospects shrink.

"What- what about John?" Rodney asked, almost afraid of the answer. Cowen laughed lightly, the smile turning into a sneer easily enough.

"Don't worry yourself. Your bed warmer will go with you," Cowen said. Rodney frowned and scrunched his face at the label.

"He's _not-_ look, if you're _that_ offended then maybe find a second bed for the space. _We_ didn't _ask_ to be here," Rodney reminded them. Kolya just caught his shoulder and squeezed painfully to catch his attention back.

"Pack your things. You'll have dinner in your room," he said, in a careful tone that Rodney knew not to argue with. He started stacking up notebooks and unplugged his laptop and tablets. They were shoved in the two packs with Rodney's extra clothes as padding and he carried them himself back to his room. John was already there, bandages wrapped to stop the stripes from bleeding. 

Rodney dumped the bags by the desk and crashed face first onto the end of the bed next to where John sat. “We’re moving.”

“ _Excuse-_ say again?” John asked. He sounded surprisingly alert. Rodney turned his head to look at him as John moved back on the bed to look down at him.

“Resources somewhere else. We’re leaving. Going somewhere else.” 

“I’m not liking the sounds of that...”

Rodney let out a bark of unamused laughter. “Do you want the _list_ of what I’m not liking today?”

John stared back at him and then shook his head. “Pretty sure I already got the bullet points down. We’re good.”

Rodney started pounding his face into the mattress from frustration, settling when John reached forward and rubbed at his arm. That was mildly infuriating and Rodney pushed himself up to escape the offered comfort. “And what was the thing in the lab? You’re _helping_ them now? It’s bad enough it’s my fault. _Don’t_.”

John blinked at him, confusion plain as he tried to keep up. “Don’t... what? Don’t _not_ get my ass kicked? Fights _hurt_ , Rodney... If they’re gonna give me the choice right now, I’ll pass,” he said. “ _And_! I want to _keep_ this shirt. I’m kind of attached to the _pocket_.”

Rodney scowled at the floor as the door opened. Their dinner was dropped off with the usual lack of fanfare. And that was probably the thing that was digging at Rodney the most: there was a _usual_. Their usual _sucked_ , but they at least had one that he could mostly navigate without getting himself or John killed. And that was all shot to hell now because Cowen showed up. He tried to figure out how to make it make enough sense to explain himself, but he was too pissed off about it. 

"It’s starting over. He freaking changed it all," was the best Rodney managed as he handed a bowl over to John. The man had been left on the lead chain, Rodney realized. John nodded and tried to balance the bowl and eat. He was out of practice after a few weeks without the cuffs at all, and Rodney started to reach for the key in the pocket. John carefully dodged. 

"Don't," he said, quick and firm about it as he moved his knee to block. He nodded toward the door. "You said it. They changed everything. What if they take it-"

Rodney frowned. Then he shook his head and tried again. "Then _you_ can't have it. If he's going to take it, he has to take it from me. otherwise you're moving out of here on a stretcher."

John grudgingly saw the logic and handed Rodney the bowl so he could get the key. He let himself out before trading the key for his food again and Rodney put it back in his inside jacket pocket. They sat in silence for a while as they ate. John took his bowl over to the tray by the door himself and then sat down next to Rodney, cross-legged so he wouldn't lean back. 

"You know that thing I said I'd stop saying?" he asked eventually. Rodney huffed at that. They had made a list of things _not_ to talk about over the last few weeks, so that was an open-ended question he wasn't in a mood to touch. John nudged him with his knee to get him to look up at him. Rodney grumbled about it into his rice but he looked over his shoulder at him.

"Think positive on this one," John said. "It's probably gonna be shit. But who knows. I've... Actually got a good feeling about it."

"Did they drug you?" Rodney blurted. With a very clear negative, John showed his arms, IV-track-free for weeks.

Rodney shook his head. "You've finally cracked. That's all."

John shrugged and nodded, but he grinned at Rodney anyway. "Maybe."

* * *


	11. Chapter 11

For all the changes that had shown up that day, the door stayed closed for hours. Rodney’s watch alarm went off and woke them up, so they could wait. And do nothing. Rodney was convinced Cowen was going to change the rules and take all of their stuff, so before they lost the chance at it, John trimmed up the scruff on his face and tried to convince himself he could at least clean up a little like a normal human. Rodney unpacked and packed up their packs again and John sat and watched, a little stunned at all that Rodney had been allowed to keep. It was not much of a surprise that the packs hadn’t been allowed to leave the labs, but he doubted McKay had realized how much of their gear could have doubled as weapons in a pinch. Too late now, as Sheppard was in no state to get that creative.

John was anxious about Rodney being allowed to keep the key, so he trapped himself back in the shackles like their usual routine. Maybe Kolya wouldn’t remember that Rodney had the key if everything was the way it always was. It was worth a shot. They knew where Cowen’s base was on the Genii homeworld. Maybe, if they were moving back there, they had a shot at getting out, and Rodney would need the key. It wasn’t like John was betting the farm on the hope, but if the worst he got from it was Rodney making faces at him for being an idiot, he could take the chance.

They had filled up the first chess book a week earlier and it was wrapped up in John’s other shirt and tucked away in one of the backpacks. John wasn’t leaving things behind, and he was partial to that one. Rodney didn't seem to understand his attachment and it added to the man’s annoyance level with him, but he didn’t argue when John buried it, They passed their newest game book back and forth as they sat on the bed, cross-legged knee to knee, both anxious and trying to take up less space in their cramped cell.

When the door finally opened, they had a full team out in the hallway waiting for them. And Kolya carried a familiar looking tac vest. “Get the key,” he said to Rodney. 

John was still leashed to the wall so he sat on the edge of the bed and waited as Rodney passed the key over and one of the soldiers let Sheppard loose of the lead and then one of the shackles. The vest was passed to John then, while he was surrounded by three soldiers, and Kolya behind them, and Rodney looking lost somewhere beyond him. John frowned at the vest as he pulled it on. 

“This isn’t mine,” he realized, and he started to take it off to hand to Rodney. The soldier in front of him snugged it back over his shoulders and caught his free wrist to lock back into the shackles. John's nose tickled on the scent of something that reminded him of good, old fashioned, Old Spice, and the Genii used herbal shit and oils, not deodorant. It bugged him but there were three Genii clones in his face and he couldn't exactly make them back off so he could figure it out. Rodney was probably right; he was just losing it.

“Your gear was left for your team,” Kolya informed him. “They stopped looking a month ago when they found it.”

John tried to sit still as the soldiers started messing with the straps and laces that made up the vest to make Rodney’s vest fit him instead. McKay was broader in the chest and shoulders, and the men weren’t kind about getting it tugged into place despite the injuries on his back. John hissed at it a few times but didn’t go out of his way to help them if they were so determined to be jerks about it.

“Can I have the key back?” Rodney dared ask as they waited. The soldier no longer in charge of keeping John’s hands out of the way passed the key back to Kolya. The Commander held it over to Rodney with the warning to “ _Behave_.”

John smirked as the soldiers pulled him up to his feet then and Kolya himself stepped up to check the fit before he latched the chain of the handcuffs to the strap that usually held the P90. It wasn’t the usual carabiner clip, though. They had replaced it with a chain link that threaded closed on one side. John could figure it out if he had to, but not without someone noticing. 

“I’m beginning to suspect you don’t trust me, Kolya,” he drawled. 

“That would be an accurate assessment, Sheppard,” the Commander replied. John wasn’t about to admit to the level of overkill the man had taken things. He was going to have a long walk out of their little Genii bunker-city and his back alone was going to make it hurt. He only nodded and tried to shrug the vest into an easier, looser fit. Then, at a word from Kolya, the room cleared out and John was pulled along by the straps at the shoulder. The whole positive-vibes idea John was trying to hang on to was slipping, though. 

* * *

Kolya’s four-man team escorted the two prisoners, while Chief Cowen and his small attachment led the way. John had the strong suspicion that if it hadn’t been more trouble than it was worth, he and Rodney would have had bags over their heads for the trip. Kolya was acting cagey. He was a high contrast to Cowen, who was the cat with the goddamned canary. 

By the time they made it to the upper layer of the underground city, John was just tired. His shoulder had decided to complain about the vest, too, and that was before he factored in the fact that he was wearing a three-quarter sleeved shirt, and he was pretty sure it was raining up on the surface because his back felt like he had been attacked by a Wraith at some point without realizing it. Two months of bad use and John felt like an old man after a twenty minute hike. Remembering the guy in the mirror the morning before, John had to admit he was nowhere near _better_. 

The bricked-in tunnels turned into rock-walled caves after a few heavy doors. Everything was still damp and humid and cold, but the hint of daylight reflected off stone that moved around corners as they walked the smooth, well traveled hallway.

Sheppard finally made it to daylight again, under armed guard. And _god_ did it hurt, overcast and raining skies or not. He stumbled and one of the useful soldiers had to keep him upright. Further ahead, trailing between Cowen and Kolya again, Rodney stopped walking altogether and just stared at the sky like he wanted to be blinded. John caught up, walking into his shoulder to bring his attention back down.

“We didn’t climb out,” Rodney realized. John frowned at him as they were pushed away from the narrow cave access. He had been unconscious when they brought him in. From where he stood now, it looked like the city was buried under an entire _mountain_.

"Did you climb in?" he asked. Rodney blinked at him as his eyes adjusted.

"I can't remember now," he said. "I remember being distracted by the bag over my head. It was... disorienting."

"I can see how that might be," John replied. He still kept close to Rodney as Kolya turned to make it clear he still had an eye on them. The few spatters of water from the sky turned into actual rain and John eyed the backpacks Rodney carried draped over each shoulder to be sure they were sealed. 

"You got a hat in there somewhere?" John asked, wanting the water off his face. As it happened, he knew there was a hat in there, but he wasn't sure if Rodney's repacking had made it inaccessible or not. Rodney made a mostly-affirmative noise before he started looking through the smaller pockets.

"Dr. McKay," Kolya said. He stopped to wait for them. Rodney looked up at him, already on the defensive.

"What? I wanted a hat," he said. "Well, he wanted one, but he can't-"

"He can deal with the weather. Keep walking," replied Kolya.

"Yessir," said John lightly, a hint for Rodney not to argue. Kolya cut him a glare and decided to join them. He sent two of his men on ahead to keep the Chief covered and folded his hand around John's elbow to make sure both of his prisoners had an escort. Because John really, really loved these special moments with the man. He ground his jaw and tried to keep up without slipping. Soft boots and mud weren’t a great match but they were better than barefoot in the cold. 

Kolya noticed he was dragging and seemed to realize it wasn't part of the act this time. He made John stop and wait, then had the soldiers put him in the flatbed wagon already loaded down with crates. 

"What's this shit?" John asked, idle curiosity as the soldiers tried to figure out how to lock him in without extra chain or letting his hands loose from the vest. Kolya eventually just ordered that he be watched.

"The crates are Dr. McKay's computer parts. Don't touch his work," Kolya ordered, smiling like he knew the threat he had issued with the warning. John just nodded, considering it.

The tree cover didn't do much to save the rain but it had the pleasant bonus of narrowing their trail. Kolya moved ahead to make sure Rodney didn't wander off from the wagon very far. John sat in the uncomfortable jostling of the wagon as Rodney and his cement-worn boots slipped on splintered logs and rocks and slick ivy just off the narrow trail.

Rodney was ridiculously out of breath when they got around to the clearing with the Stargate and John was certain he wouldn't have made it still standing. From the relative dry zone of the treeline, John and Rodney looked up at a complete 'gate, already active and waiting. Rodney looked murderous. John felt it. But he also felt tired. He looked over to catch Rodney's eye.

"McKay," he said, quiet and staring hard to try to catch his attention. "Rodney."

"What?" It wasn't exactly a snap but he was irritated. John inclined his head.

"Teyla thing." It was the closest John had come to giving an order in a month and Rodney walked up to the back of the wagon to oblige. He caught John's arms and got just barely close enough that John tugged at the front of his shirt. "We'll figure it out on the other side."

Rodney nodded and, since he was there, snuck in a careful kiss. John welcomed it and felt a little better for it by the time Rodney turned away toward the 'gate again. 

"Doctor McKay, up here, please." Kolya ordered. And John sighed as Rodney reluctantly moved off to where the Genii leaders stood, waiting for the full company to catch up in the clearing. John looked around at a smattering of soldiers in their uniforms with their hats - a few of them he had been around long enough to recognize now - and a handful of scientists and another horse cart full of more gear. They weren't playing if they were pulling scientists from the one project to the other. There were a few little kids in the mix behind them and John felt a pang of frustration. He didn't want to know these people had their kids and wives with them. It was easier to hate people who weren't human. John hoped Rodney didn't turn around as the group started through the Stargate.

The 'gate was more cold and the wagon rolled John through with his jaw chattering into a bright, open clearing and baking sunshine. John wanted badly to sit on the steps just for the feel of the sun and the warm stone. After two months underground, he had a suddenly clear understanding of lizards. The horses were led down a metal ramp that was then piled on the back of the other cart and John got to stare back at the group of people being moved along with them for the whole of the ride.

He recognized the 'gate and the clearing around it as the Genii homeworld that Teyla had once introduced them to. Someplace Elizabeth and Lorne would have already thought to look for them. They knew this place. It was obvious. Assuming Elizabeth somehow even knew to look for the Genii. Sheppard's gaze dropped to the grass and dirt moving along under him as he considered it. The positive thinking was struggling hard and the half hour he had spent in the wagon was starting to wear on him.

John dropped his feet down and jumped, stumbling and catching himself just barely. There was a soldier in his face a minute later and John dodged to start walking himself. It gave him something to do. And he was soaked from the rain on the other planet so walking would help. It took some work but he caught up to Rodney and got glared at by Kolya for it. John just smiled at him.

Before too long they got to the hut Rodney had found the first time they had visited the planet, but it had been converted to something that looked rundown and abandoned instead of a functional hay barn. Rodney was steered toward the hut and John followed, along with a squad of soldiers, a mix of Kolya's men and Cowen's. The wagons and the scientists kept going toward the village. 

John was left in the cuffs, but they were unlatched from the vest so he could get himself down the ladder. That pulled at his back, badly, and he hated the experience, but he made it. He started toward the stairs, following Cowen and Rodney, but Kolya ordered him back. He met the man's glare as best he could and tried to keep his back straight. They were starting over, so John would try it Rodney's way, no acting.

Kolya didn't have anything worthwhile to say, just locked John's arms back to the vest and dumped a black bag over his head. _That_ figured. And it wasn't fun. Kolya kept hold of him by the arm, sometimes walking behind him. He still fell twice on the different levels of stairs with Kolya helping gravity along more than stopping it. 

"John?" Rodney's voice asked from farther ahead after one of the stumbles as Kolya pulled him back up to his feet. 

"Stay with Chief Cowen," Kolya ordered. And Rodney had to hurry to catch up, based on the jogging John heard after that. And John didn't hear proof of Rodney again. Just the stink of Kolya and the sounds of a few soldiers and the humid, dripping corridors. 

He eventually heard the familiar echo and squeal of a metal door and was brought to a larger space, a room from the sound of it. A metal gate opened and John was moved forward and to the right. Jail cell. He could hear it. Great. The bag was dragged off his head before Kolya started fussing with the tac vest. 

John squinted until the buzzing lights didn't hurt and he stood still. He knew the drill and Kolya didn't trust him anymore. That was why the _help_ down the stairs. Starting over wasn't going to be great. Kolya had what he wanted now, he was back home, working whatever angle he had with Cowen. John was just a pet project, one that supposedly had to be kept alive, and they already knew there was a lot of room to play with that definition.

"McKay's got the key," John pointed out helpfully, holding up the cuffs that would keep him trapped in the vest. "We can go borrow it, though."

Kolya gave a tolerant half-grin at the attempt and carried on unlatching the buckles. He wasn't amused, but at least he wasn't pissed off. The soldier at the gate stepped forward then, a ring of keys in hand, and released one of the cuffs. Kolya held on to the chain and ordered Sheppard out of the vest, then locked him back up when the soldier had the vest pulled away. 

"Do we need to have a conversation, Sheppard?" the Genii Commander asked when the soldier had retreated to the gate. John shook his head.

"I think I've got it down at this point. Unless you're changing the rules on us, then I might need a primer," he said.

"The rules haven't changed. You're here until you're no longer useful," said Kolya. "And you may just be more useful here than you were before. But let me remind you, there are ways to cripple a man that you've proven you will survive. Doctor McKay can use his brain in a chair. So I have no reason to tolerate the trouble of the last few weeks again."

"What trouble?" John asked, guileless. "You liked it."

Kolya caught him by the throat, and John resigned himself to a permanent bruise, but the man settled for the threat. John could still breathe. Which meant he could still talk.

"We got you what you wanted. What do you care how?"

"Do as you're told," replied Kolya. "And in a few days you may see McKay again."

And John was left where he was, in the middle of a barred, Genii cell, that looked a lot like the one on another planet. They didn't have a lot of variety to offer. Kolya and his soldiers left, no promise of food or blankets. There was a kid in a cell across the room, pretty fresh-faced, but he wore a dirty uniform of the underground Genii, so it was some kind of disciplinary thing and John didn't even consider talking to him. John found the most comfortable looking spot against the stone at the back of the cell and started counting bars as something to do.

* * *

The Genii’s homeworld complex was bigger than the one under the mountain. Rodney was taken directly to a new hole-in-the-wall apartment of sorts and was allowed to leave his packs there. He was tired of carrying them. There was enough time to note the desk and cupboards in the new room, and the bathroom - finally one he could take an actual shower in - before he was being escorted out again. The nuclear power at this location was slightly different than the smaller Outpost and Cowen wanted him to know what he would be working with. 

It ate hours of his time and Rodney was exhausted from the walking he had already done that day. He took notes of what he needed and tried to make it clear that it was going to take him days to get an actual understanding of their system if they wanted more than theory from another galaxy. Cowen seemed receptive to it. Cowen, in fact, seemed more accustomed to dealing with science than Kolya. He understood what Rodney was talking about in more than blank nods and ignorant insistence and dismissal.

"I'll need that protective gear I told you about," Rodney told him. And Cowen nodded. 

"The suits were brought back with the parts that were in the process of being machined. Everything will be ready for you by the end of the day," said Chief Cowen.

"That's nice. Then what about food? I haven't had any all day and I've been walking all morning," said Rodney finally. Cowen smiled at him and didn't threaten him for the disinterested protest. He just delivered him back to his room. Another room with no handle on the inside of the metal door, Rodney noticed once it closed him in. And he noticed John wasn't there. Rodney claimed his side of the bed anyway and waited for lunch to be delivered. 

He ate and then unpacked the clothes and game books into the cupboards beside the desk, leaving the laptop and tablets in a single pack to move to wherever they put him as a lab. That introduction came next, so Rodney and his backpack had to cross yet another maze of tunnels under escort. The new lab came equipped with other scientists who seemed somewhat competent about the nuclear power they were playing with, but it was still going to be like dealing with children. By the time dinner rolled around, Rodney thoroughly missed the lonely lab on the other planet. He all but ran out the door before he was further tempted to yell at any of them. 

John still wasn't there in the apartment when he got there. He didn't show up for dinner, or after it. Rodney took a chance and tested the shower, decided it was better than nothing, and spent at least a half an hour under the water. But there were no towels. So the experiment was badly prepared for and he felt stupid sitting in his boxers, waiting to dry. The hall door stayed closed. John didn't show up. 

He asked after him the next morning at breakfast and was told he was in the brig. 

"That wasn't the arrangement," Rodney said, without thinking. "He was supposed to stay with me."

"That was Kolya's arrangement. And I have no interest in it. I want to know how you'll do on your own," said Cowen. 

"I can tell you that, just ask," replied Rodney. "Not well. The answer is _not well_. He's my friend and I worry and can't stay focused. Things are easier when he's with me."

"Not in the lab," said Cowen.

"I would like him there. He worked with me in the labs at home, and he doesn't get offended easily," replied Rodney. "But Kolya wouldn't let him work with me, either. Look, if nothing else, he really should be under a doctor’s care."

"He's a competent soldier and an active threat," Cowen said.

"Not right now. The Commander nearly killed him twice already," said Rodney.

The Chief shook his head and laughed. "That is hardly any argument in favor of trusting the man."

Rodney gave up then because they got to the lab. And his work day began all over again. New idiots, new problems, the random screeching of the home-made Geiger he had brought with him. Just to get the point across to the people he was working with that their lives were being wasted. There was no saving the city at this point and they had to accept mitigating the damage and moving on. Once he got the point through their skulls, he could focus on the computer updates.

He still asked about getting John back at the end of the day. And then again in the morning. And then again in the evening when he was taken back to his room. The pattern repeated. He wanted John Sheppard back within reach and if there was anything Rodney was good at, it was figuring out how to get what he wanted. Cowen seemed annoyed on the third morning when he asked. 

It didn’t seem to be making him any brownie points but Rodney didn’t care. He was getting used to the rules, even if he was starting over, even if he didn’t like the changes around him. He couldn’t do a damn thing about them, except be annoying about it all, and there was only one way to find out how annoying he was allowed to be under the new regime. 

* * *

There wasn’t much way to tell one day from another in the brig, so John didn’t know how long he had been behind bars again before Chief Cowen paid him a visit. All he knew for sure was he was well past hungry, and cranky, and cold. Not a good combination.

“Colonel Sheppard,” Cowen said, staring in at him from just out of reach of the bars. John thought that was funny. 

“Don’t let Kolya hear you say that,” he replied. He stayed where he was against the wall, far away from the man. A short fuse without the strength to back it up was a good way to get dead and John was still on the fence about that. He'd promised Rodney.

“Why does Dr. McKay insist you need medical care?” Cowen wanted to know. John’s amusement faded and he shrugged.

“Rodney’s got the list,” was all he had to say about that. “I could use food though. And water.”

Cowen seemed fine ignoring that. “Kolya says you personally killed his men. Is that true?”

John shrugged. “Those who took aim at my head, sure. The rest... he ordered them through a closed stargate. I’m just the guy who closed it.”

“So it’s true.”

“If you say so.”

There wasn’t going to be much to say on that that could change anybody’s mind and John wasn’t interested in trying. He didn’t say anything and the Genii Chief stood in judgement on the other side of the gate. 

“This sickness that has hit my people. Does Atlantis really possess the cure for it?” Cowen asked eventually. Rodney could have given him the answer to that but John kept that to himself. He just nodded.

“Last count was it had affected fifty families, most on the surface. Including children,” the Genii leader said, though John wasn’t sure the man actually gave a damn about the people behind his own numbers. But fifty families seemed like a lot of people to go wasting on John’s account. He shrugged.

“Send us home. I’ll make sure we share what we know,” he offered, but it was a joke. There was no thought in their minds to trade for a cure. Not when they had McKay working on their nukes for them. A few people lost to a pox were acceptable collateral damage in what amounted to an arms race against the Wraith. At least, they would be for the Genii, with their multiple outposts and underground cities, like roaches who could scurry to ground and survive the nukes they coveted so badly. 

“Commander Kolya has put a little too much effort into Dr. McKay to just send him home,” Chief Cowen said. John smiled, unamused that time. _Called it._

“The funny thing is, McKay works for the highest bidder,” John offered. “All that effort wasn’t required. Kolya just gets off on it.”

That triggered something in the stoic Cowen and an actual emotion showed up on the man’s face. “Kolya is one of the best officers among the outposts,” he said, anger in his voice to match his glare. John pointed the man’s attention to the carefully silent man in the cell at the end of the room.

“Yeah? Until two months ago, I thought Atlantis and the Genii had a truce. But your traitor over there has had six squares since I got here and I haven’t had a meal since the day before you showed up. Somebody brought me water a couple of times though. That’s some special kindahate.”

Chief Cowen stood down then, considering the two prisoners. He ran out of things to annoy John with after that and made no fanfare about leaving. John curled up against the wall and went back to sleep. He woke up some time later... in the infirmary.

* * *


	12. Chapter 12

The infirmary looked the same, the doctors and nurses looked the same, and John's accommodations looked the same. But these guys didn't drug the IVs with the antibiotics in them, so John stayed clear-headed, and he was given actual food again. And the handcuffs were reduced to just one wrist attached to the chain on the wall, so the calluses could heal a little and to protect the shoulder that refused to heal correctly. The added care seemed ridiculous at two months in, whatever damage had been done and would stay that way. But John didn't have a lot of say in the matter, and he wasn’t going to complain about being able to move his arms again. 

He got a new shirt out of it, with the jammer sewn on the front, but actually getting to wear it was going to have to wait until the day John was to be released from the infirmary again. The doctor was mostly concerned about the newest slices across his back bleeding on a new shirt, but the team in the new infirmary kept putting some kind of salve on the injuries he had let them know about. It felt better than a kick in the head so John stayed out of their way. 

These doctors were at least not assholes, but John hadn't started off their patient-doctor relationship by slugging them in the nose, either. When Sheppard asked them about Rodney, the infirmary staff didn’t even know who he was talking about. It was surreal. But he was still anxious about where Rodney had disappeared to.

At the end of three days, aside from the fact that he hadn't seen Rodney once, John felt better. He was sent into the bathroom to shave and clean up on his own, even take a shower, and spent most of his time trying not to panic. He still didn't look like himself in the mirror, but he at least didn't look like a skeleton, either. The bruises of the previous two weeks had faded and he could see them in the mirror clearly, but they didn't hurt as much. John was still shaking when he tried to shave. But he managed.

They had found him a black shirt, probably to hide the blood better next time, and Rodney stared at him in open shock when they were both allowed in the same room again. John stood between the usual guards, looking in at a busy lab, one with other people in it aside from Rodney. When the guards caught Rodney’s attention, he looked up and saw John and dropped what he was doing on the counter top. He grabbed his jacket when he was told to and followed the soldier out the door to John in the hallway.

"Better?" John asked. Rodney raised a hand to wobble it back and forth before he latched on to John’s arm like he needed to make sure there was a real human there. 

“I recognize you again," Rodney told him. John tugged at his shirt collar, uncomfortable. That wasn’t much of a vote of confidence. But John at least felt better, despite being locked back in handcuffs.

The guards took them up a few levels and ultimately out into the sunlight again. John didn't care that he was supposed to be going somewhere - God knew where - and he just stopped and soaked up the sun he was allowed. They ended up at the meeting house in the village. It seemed like a damn huge risk. The urge to take off running was strong, but John knew he would get ten feet before Kolya took the excuse to shoot him in the back. John could have just sat on the front steps for an hour though.

"So what's the deal?" Sheppard asked when he was sitting at the hand-hewn wood table that looked nothing like any of the Genii spaces he had occupied the past two months. Rodney was sat very purposefully in a chair across the room from him rather than elsewhere at the table. They could see each other easily but the distance was noticeably drastic. Chief Cowen followed them in, while Kolya leaned against the table, waiting.

"We would like to make an offer," Kolya said as he stood between them, lurking near Rodney closer than John liked. Rodney didn't seem to like the sound of that and leaned back, arms crossed self-consciously. John kept his expression intentionally neutral. They were still very clearly prisoners, with nothing to offer in return, so a refusal would go badly, which meant that whatever the Chief was asking for would not be anything they wanted in the first place.

"Well, I guess we can listen," said John, when Rodney didn't leap to answer. This used to be his area anyway. Kolya smiled.

"We were promised the cure to the pox and Atlantis has yet to deliver it. Were you to have a conversation with them, however, you could _correct_ their _oversight_. And, should the conversation be handled appropriately, Sheppard can be relocated to your rooms, Dr. McKay."

While John let out a painful burst of laughter, Rodney’s jaw dropped. There was nothing about that idea the two of them didn't want to immediately agree to. It was the very definition of too good to be true. The chance to let Atlantis know they were still alive, which would only increase the possibility of a rescue since they were back on the Genii homeworld. They were in easy reach, even if they were kept underground. After a few days of playing nice, the Genii were now presenting a gift, wrapped with a bow, and Rodney would get John back in the deal. 

The problem was that there was absolutely no way they could agree to it when it had to have some kind of catch. Especially when the Genii believed Atlantis thought their missing officers were dead.

"Are you serious? Both of us?" John asked before Rodney could think to refuse. Kolya shook his head.

"You're dead, Sheppard."

John smiled at him, still smarting from the last time he had laughed at the man. "I don't know who you had to kill to find somebody that looked like me, but there's nothing you could present to them as a substitute for Rodney or me that could pass the genetic testing we’re capable of. Within twenty-four hours, they knew whoever you wrapped up in my vest wasn't me."

Kolya didn't seem as surprised by this as he should have. But the man had known about their subcutaneous transmitters, too. "Regardless of who convinces them to abide by their promises, you would have to explain to them that you will not be returning to Atlantis voluntarily. _Without_ mentioning your location."

Rodney shook his head. Any kind of subtlety took him out of the running. "Not possible. Nothing we could say would convince the Director of that, let alone that she should take the risk believing us."

Kolya still watched John, hardly acknowledging that Rodney had said anything. It was becoming clear that this was the last two months of lying to the Commander catching up with him. This trap of a proposal was on Sheppard and McKay was just the bait. John looked from Kolya to Rodney, thinking it over. Rodney stared back, openly confused.

“She won’t buy it,” he said.

“She might,” John said. 

Kolya looked between the two of them. "And what do you expect to tell her?"

Rodney stared back at John, keeping his head down to keep out of Kolya’s easy target range for arguing, but he was curious, too. It was crazy, but Rodney was listening anyway. John had changed a lot in two months while Rodney barely looked like he had given up jello cups. For that alone, he knew, Elizabeth Weir would notice any kind of a whopper he tried to slip past her. And if he knew what he was up against, he could counter it just enough to keep her quiet on the call. That was all they had to do. Just get Atlantis a message. And letting them see their faces would be one helluva message. 

It could backfire on them. But there was a sliver of a chance that it could still go right. John shrugged as he leaned over the table toward Rodney at the other side of the room.

“We tell them what happened,” said John, settling on an idea as he spoke. His attention moved from Rodney reluctantly up to Cowen. "Tell her that we got in trouble out there. Or, I guess, _I_ did. And in return for stepping up and helping me _not die_ , McKay is fixing your power situation. And he and I will go back to Atlantis when he's done."

He presented it simply, like it was true. It wasn’t like Cowen would know any different anyway because it was doubtful Kolya had told him the finer points. And there was enough left out of John’s summary that it wasn't exactly wrong. Except the part where everything about it was a lie. Rodney frowned over at him as Kolya laughed in quiet appreciation. That hit John wrong and he eased away from the table warily.

"To be clear, should Director Weir come looking for you from anything you say, you will not be here," said Cowen as the Genii Chief stepped up to the table edge to reclaim his attention. "So you will not mention to her any identifiers that could lead her this way. She is only to correct the mess she made of my people."

"Hey, I don't know where you guys got it. I just know we're equipped to treat it," John said quickly. He was frankly still stunned they were having the conversation at all because the situation seemed very dangerous for Cowen. "The fact that she _hasn't_ seems to me to mean she knows _exactly_ where we are and she's waiting you out. See who blinks first."

Cowen stared down at him, eyebrow quirked up in a way that would suggest the man wasn't buying the story. John lifted his hands to tap on the table. "You do realize, me doing this? That's you, blinking first."

"Poisoning my people was an act of war," said Cowen. The arrogant perspective driving Cowen's meeting plans with Atlantis was another shock. John kicked against the table leg near him, shoving the heavy table across the floor as his anger surged at the man's sheer gall.

"Kidnapping and assault of two chief officers of Atlantis was an _act of war._ Anything sent your way after that was a _response_." 

There was an audible pushback to Sheppard's outburst and every soldier in the building had drawn their guns. Dislodged from the table by the scene, Kolya moved to stand beside Rodney with a gun muzzle against his shoulder. John huffed out a breath and made himself slouch in the chair. He was _supposed_ to be injured and harmless.

"We expect our people to be cared for," said Chief Cowen slowly. "Do you believe you can manage it or should I plan other arrangements?"

John tilted his head as he looked back up at Cowen. "You know what you're doing here, don't you?"

" _You're_ arranging the promised medical assistance your Director Weir has been withholding for six weeks," said Cowen. "If it arrives as promised, in good faith, that will be the end of it. If it does not, we pursue other methods."

"What other-" Rodney broke off when the gun at his shoulder tapped twice to say _hello_ and McKay realized there was danger. John wanted to stand up and walk out. He didn't believe Cowen could do anything in good faith. 

"I'll get you the inoculations, but not the medical team. You have your own team," he said finally.

"That would be acceptable."

"Fine," said John. He was disgusted and angry and wanted it over with. He plopped his wrists on the table to make the chain make noise in a hint. "Are we doing this now or not?"

A soldier showed up from another room then and Rodney's laptop was dropped on the table in front of John. Cowen waved vaguely toward it. 

"I understand you can contact them using this," he said. John blinked over at Rodney, who stared, slack-jawed up at Cowen.

"What- how do you know?" he asked. Cowen ignored it.

"You're not answering the question," he said. John held his hands up slightly in innocence.

"I can't. He can. It's _his_ computer," he said, nodding across at Rodney. Kolya pulled the gun away from Rodney then, hands patiently behind himself so the threat was no longer in McKay's peripheral.

"Yes, I can raise the city on the VHF, if the 'gate is open," Rodney said. Cowen slid the laptop down the table toward Kolya and Rodney. Rodney stood up to move to the table to get started booting up the abused computer. The Chief moved back to look over Rodney's shoulder, watching his progress before tapping a bulky radio on his wrist and ordering the men on the other end to dial the Stargate. Rodney had to enter a few different passwords before he scooped up the laptop and took it over to John. 

"There, and then there, whenever you're ready," he said, quiet as he pointed out the call and video activations. He backed off, quickly, not looking forward to chatting with Elizabeth apparently. John stared at the laptop, feeling exhausted and stunned a little. He hadn't even seen a computer screen in actual _months_ , and he was about to have to deal with Elizabeth on the other end of one.

"Shit," he muttered to himself. He picked up his hands to try to tame his hair and the cuffs _chinked_. John froze. He looked over at Kolya. "These gotta go. She's gonna see them."

"Dr. McKay has the key," came the reply. Rodney scrambled to find the key in his jacket pocket and let John out, setting the cuffs behind the laptop and out of sight. Kolya promptly called him over and made him sit down again, and he made sure John saw the handgun held casually behind Rodney's shoulder. Because they only needed Rodney’s brain and there was a lot of territory Kolya could hit that would still get his point across.

John started to push the button and then chickened out again. He didn't want to do this. It could go very wrong. So very wrong. He pulled his hand away and scrubbed at his face before he sat up and looked over at Cowen. 

"You want me to negotiate _your_ fucking war with _my own people_ ," he said, spelling it out for the man. "So you can sit there and pretend your hands are clean because Kolya did your dirty work. And that's fucking fine, I guess. But I don't care how this goes. I do _this_ , then I stay with McKay. And your people leave me _the hell_ alone unless I gotta do my job. Everyone agrees on that _now_ , or you can put me back in the brig _now_."

Chief Cowen considered it before he nodded. "That's acceptable. You'll be left to the care of Dr. McKay except as needed for disciplinary actions."

John looked expectantly to Kolya who had just been ordered to back off his pet project. And he knew it. John waited, leaving his hand poised over the button to start the call along Atlantis' network. 

"Agreed," Kolya said, finally. "Now call them."

John punched the buttons before he could back out. He leaned his elbows on the table and shoved the laptop away as he dug the heels of his hands against his face and the bruises there. This was going to hurt and he had to shove down the choking panic.

"Atlantis, this is Sheppard. Calling in collect," John said when the line clicked through to a black box and silence. He tried to keep the anger out of his voice. 

"Colonel?" Elizabeth asked over the tiny speakers, and John winced out of recent habit. A moment later there was a fuzzy picture on the screen of the control room, Elizabeth, Teyla, and Ronon's faces all staring out at him, and John had to sit back. He managed to pull up a smile but it was a half-assed job at recovery, if the frown on Rodney's face across the room was any indication. John took a deep breath and tried again. 

"Hey, gang's all there, that's good," he said, trying for a casual greeting. All he heard in his voice was exhaustion. _Why the hell had he thought he could do this_? 

"John, where are you?" Teyla asked, right to business, because the woman was some kind of psychic. Not even a polite _Colonel_ from her, just straight to the first-name business to make it clear she _saw_ him. John cleared his throat and shook his head, shrugging it off.

"I don't actually know the answer to that," he said. "I'm not too worried about it just now. Rodney and I are all set up here. Just... Gonna be out a while longer than we had thought."

"At what, Colonel?" Elizabeth asked. She had gone still and tense, and clasped her hands in front of her. _One lie in_ and the diplomat was ready to rumble. John really did smile at that. He scratched at his chin and tried to project calm.

"I, uh, got hurt back when the 'gate was still busted, and Rodney and I got turned around trying to get out of there. Some folks have been helping me, you know, get back up on my feet, so Rodney's helping them with some engineering stuff," he said. Zelenka peeked out like a ferret in an office chair, just at the corner of the screen around Teyla, and he looked quite confused. Everyone else on the screen just looked pissed off. And it wasn’t something John figured was possible to avoid, but it wasn’t what he wanted to be looking at after two months away from home. He ducked his head and slouched over the edge of the table. 

"We'll head home when we can,” he said, scrubbing at the wood rather than look up. “But we figured we'd check in. Make sure everyone knew things are fine. Situation normal."

"We're dealing with some SNAFUs here ourselves, Colonel," said Elizabeth, guarded. "We could use you and Rodney back. Can we send someone out to pick you up? I'm sure Carson could help-"

"Well, I don't know where exactly we are and I don't want to send you off on a wild goose chase," John replied, shaking his head. "The beauty about this setup is I don't even have to hike out to dial the 'gate. Someone else does it for us and it's good to go. Give me a few more weeks."

"Where's McKay?" Ronon asked. John's eyes darted to Rodney's face where the man sat across the room, listening to their friends. Just hearing them had him looking shellshocked. This was not something either of them had expected to be dealing with even two hours earlier. Sheppard waved a hand vaguely. 

"He's around somewhere. Building things. Damned if I know what he does," said John. He shook his head, dismissed the topic and looked to the Director on the screen. "Look. These folks who Rodney's helping. They do some horse-trading with the Genii, and it's getting around that there's a few outposts who are getting hit with the pox Carson's team took out a year ago. So could you do us a favor and drop some of that vaccine off on their doorstep? Just to get them started so it doesn't get around to us. I don't want to test this theory that the two of us are immune."

Elizabeth shook her head at him. "While there are many viruses we can get from other Tau'ri in this galaxy, this one is very different and does not-" 

"Sorry, Elizabeth, you're not hearing me. I'm hurt, already compromised out here. _Me_ ," said John. She was gonna bust up the only cover story he had and Cowen would fall back on Kolya's policy of taking it out of John's hide, right after they got relocated and buried in some unknown outpost again. He tried to remember how to make something an order from just his tone of voice, after two months of training himself out of it around Rodney. "Check with Carson on this one, but after all the shit I've already had in my system, from other Pegasus _bugs_? If this stuff is gonna figure out how to jump Tau'ri, it's gonna figure it out through me. I don't want that shit mutating with me as Patient Zero. So if we can stop it, we need to."

There was a long quiet and Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him. Her expression said she couldn't get a read on him that made sense and John wished he still had his sunglasses for the added layer to help keep his friends out. "Please, 'lizabeth? How hard can it be to get ahead of that?"

Weir crossed her arms. "The Genii have not exactly been welcoming the last few months, Colonel."

"That's not a trait they’re known for," John agreed. "But last I knew, being nice guys wasn't a requirement to receive humanitarian aid when our guys have got it to give. We can pay this one forward."

"John, where's Rodney?" Teyla spoke up again. Shit, _that_ wasn't helpful. John sat forward in his chair and looked up at Cowen for permission to drag Rodney in. The Chief stared back at him impassively. John sighed and shoved back in his chair, stood up to lean on the table to be seen over the laptop. He looked to Kolya and waved for Rodney to make an appearance. They could take the chance and help him, or they could just sit there and let it spiral out. John very carefully refused to look at Rodney, too aware of the number of times he had been called _Colonel_ in the last few minutes.

Kolya finally tapped Rodney's shoulder to get him out of the chair. John sat down and faced the screen again. 

"Got him. One second," he reported. Rodney was in no hurry to get there and he shot John a narrow, red-eyed glare for dragging him into it. He stepped up behind John and leaned over him from the side to get in the frame, and John reflexively bumped his shoulder into his chest since he couldn't take his hand. Rodney reached out, angled the computer screen to raise the camera, and he was trying to smile.

"Rodney, please explain," said Teyla. John rolled his eyes.

"I already explained, Teyla. The story isn't going to change," he said. Rodney nodded.

"John got hurt, so I'm helping these guys with their power grid," said Rodney. John saw on the screen that Rodney looked up, over the computer, rather than try to lie where their team could tell.

"How? What's wrong with the Colonel?"

John set his jaw and tapped a hand at Rodney's thigh to get him to look down at him. "I'm fine."

Rodney frowned and levered down to take a knee instead. He still pressed against John and left his arm on John's leg rather than risk hitting the wrong part of his shoulder.

"Look, he hurt his back, but he's getting better," Rodney said. "We'll... Be back when everything is done, like he said."

"He said his system would be compromised and susceptible to a Pegasus virus," said Elizabeth. Rodney winced.

"He's not exactly wrong. With everything else, it would make sense," he replied.

" _What_ else?"

John frowned at that. "You're not _any of you_ Carson," he pointed out.

"No, but I would like to know what's taking you this long to get back, and how _compromised_ it has left you," replied Elizabeth. Teyla turned and disappeared from view then, with Ronon looking after where she had gone. It looked off in the direction of Elizabeth's office, and John figured it meant she was pissed off at him rather than she had gone to fetch Carson. 

"Blood loss mostly," Rodney went on to answer Weir anyway. "They did transfusions and everything, but I don't think they fully understand about blood type. And his back... I mean, who knows if there were any left over problems from when he was bitten a few months ago. But it’s been weeks and he's still recovering from when we got here."

John stared at the screen and leaned into Rodney to tamp down on his irritation with the questions. "It's kind of reasonable to suggest that saving the people we're living with could save us, Elizabeth. Can we leave it at that and just send out the inoculations to the outposts that need them? Or should we keep digging into my medical history?"

"Rodney, where are you?"

"I told you, we don't know," replied John. On the screen, the little picture of Rodney at John's shoulder looked down to study the keyboard. Not helpful. But it could have been much worse. "We're in a house. In a field. There is agriculture. We have food."

"And a power grid," said Elizabeth. John nodded.

"Rodney's building it," he said. "And now that we know this connection works, when we know more, we can let you know."

Teyla returned then. She held an old-fashioned piece of paper in her hand and had large letters written on it that were hard to miss just then: _Genii_. John grinned and leaned forward, elbow on the table so he could hide it behind his hand. 

"Colonel, are you making sure Rodney is eating regularly?" Teyla asked, and the answer would have to confirm or deny her unspoken question. John nodded.

"Yeah. I'm keeping him out of the infirmary so far," he said, finding it strangely hilarious. Rodney found the keyboard absolutely fascinating and wavered as he crouched. "But he's supposed to be getting lunch right now, so this one's not on me."

"Nice, John, thank you for including us in that responsibility," said Elizabeth, rolling her eyes. Teyla folded the paper up and it disappeared behind her. 

"Thanks for being a part of it," John replied. He nodded absently as Rodney climbed back to his feet. Kolya was just short of snapping his fingers to get Rodney away from the camera. John refocused and tried to stay on target. "Just... Look, we gotta go. But... Watch our six on this one, alright? Send out the inoculations. I don't want hit with this shit, too."

"If we knew where you were, we could send Carson to you," Elizabeth said. 

"I wish you could," said John. "We're just... Doing what we can. McKay will figure it out."

"Yeah, that's what I do, right?" added Rodney, but it was missing the usual pizazz of his ego behind it. John looked up at him. 

"Teyla's right. Go get lunch, buddy," he said, quiet but still loud enough for the computer to pick up. And he pushed his shoulder at Rodney's hip to add to the hint. Rodney waved at their team on the computer before standing and edging out to where Kolya could grab his arm and escort him from the room entirely. That didn't make John feel any better. Cowen waved a hand to hurry it up. 

"Rodney looks well," Elizabeth's voice brought him back. John clenched his jaw.

"Yeah. He's what happens when you're smart and keep going. I'm what happens when you fuck up and get hurt," he replied darkly. He huffed out a careful breath and tried to reset. "So be careful in the woods, kids. Don't get lost, and stick with the buddy system. All that sage wisdom the Lt. Colonel is supposed to pass along. And on that final thought, the battery is almost dead in this thing. So until next time?"

"Take care, John," said Teyla, with Elizabeth as a somewhat bitter echo. Ronon seemed to stare at him and the big man was rubbing at his wrist, his eyes narrowed. John ducked his hand back down to the desk with a brief wave before ending the call. He poked at the computer a little, saw Rodney had emails unsent, and sent them while they still had the ability to transmit the data to the Atlantis network. He opened a new one and in two keystrokes had it addressed to Elizabeth, quickly letting her know their location before sending. Then he closed the email program and shut the laptop. He slid it toward Cowen.

"Call is ended. The 'gate connection can be shut down now," he said. And Cowen was on the radio again to have his men at the 'gate close the wormhole. Cowen stepped forward and collected the laptop, using it to shove the cuffs behind them back toward Sheppard. John glared at him but took the hint. He had just kicked a hornet's nest in Atlantis and Cowen was the moron who had let him do it. If the man felt better because of handcuffs, John could oblige.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

The fallout from the call was more extensive than bad attitudes and unanswered questions. Teyla had already been confident in her assessment of where their missing team members were, but it had been weeks with no solid answers despite their many efforts at locating them. Her friends' faces had confirmed it well enough, but the litany of foreign swearing from Zelenka just before the gate closed was an announcement of actual proof. 

"Doctor..." Radek said, in that slow way that indicated the scientist was still processing information. "Rodney just sent himself roughly... Three hundred emails. And... Four were carbon-copied to the SGC... I... I don't know what-"

Elizabeth ran back from her office to hang over his shoulder. "What?"

"He has been gone so long, and I have to monitor his email as policy. And the download nearly crashed the program... I'm not even sure if we got all of it," Zelenka was saying as he scrolled through the email program's received messages. All of them were unread and all of them were sent _from_ Rodney's email address _to_ Rodney's email address. Zelenka switched between screens as he realized there were nearly fifty emails in his own email folder, addressed to him, also from Rodney's email address. He looked over his shoulder at where Elizabeth stood beside Teyla.

"They go back near two months," he said. Elizabeth frowned down at the screen. 

"Are there any attachments we need to worry about?" she asked. Zelenka shook his head.

"Not that I can tell."

"Then look through them. Most recent first. See if you can determine what exactly is going on, because our chat a few moments ago was not at all helpful," she said. She patted the scientist on the shoulder and went back to her office. Leaving Ronon to help with the emails, Teyla followed after the Director.

"Elizabeth, they're with the Genii, as we suspected," she said. 

"I saw that as well," said the Director. She was agitated and distracted herself by sitting down and undoubtedly checking her own email. It would have been offensive, but Teyla understood well enough her frustration. "And I know exactly who was monitoring that call to ensure we received no useful information from it, but without an address, we have, what, ten outposts to search, that we know of? And we do not have the manpower to-"

Elizabeth stopped suddenly, her head tilted as she stared at the screen. Her expression softened from anger to resolution and she stood up again. She pulled her computer from the stand and moved around the desk to show Teyla the screen. There was an email open, sent from Rodney's address.

_Sry. Teyla's Genii._

The date stamp on the otherwise blank email was only minutes earlier.

"They narrowed it down for us," said Elizabeth then.

Zelenka suddenly let out a shout from the control room. "Rodney _lied_! They knew! He sent himself 'gate address! Six days ago!"

Elizabeth smiled only briefly as she met Teyla eye to eye. "Three confirmations make it certain. And I still don't know how to get them back. They have us more than outnumbered. And we can't risk sending Carson as a distraction now. So I am open to suggestions. In the meantime, we wait for Major Lorne to return."

"Ronon and I found our way in before," Teyla said. Elizabeth shook her head.

"These people know you, Teyla. And for the John Sheppard _I know_ to admit that he had been hurt, they have not been kind to him," Elizabeth pointed out. She set her hand on Teyla's arm and squeezed, trying to get through the first rush of affronted pride and annoyance at what Teyla knew the Director was asking. "Sending you along on whatever rescue we can manage would put you and them at greater risk if you were caught."

"I disagree," said Teyla firmly. Elizabeth nodded.

"I understand. But I'm making the request that you consider helping from here. _When_ we have a plan we can act on," the Atlantis Expedition Director said. She frowned and shook her head. "And that could be... I don't know, maybe a few days. It may get down to Major Lorne. I need to coordinate with Carson and Dr. Spencer on this request of John's in the meantime. We can... Reach out to Cowen in a few hours. Arrange to get him the supplies and see what kind of a reception we get."

"We're sending supplies?" Ronon asked, leaning in the door and looking a new level of annoyed at the very suggestion. Elizabeth nodded.

"There's a reason they let John contact us for them," she replied. "If we don't respond, John and Rodney are directly in the middle of it. So, as John said, we'll watch their six. Back them up. And hopefully minimize any collateral damage to the Genii. Chief Cowen seems to have gotten the point if he’ll show us proof of life."

"I don't care about collateral damage," said Ronon. "Did you _see_ Sheppard?"

"Yes, and I saw him _ask us_ for help. Inasmuch as we can manage it without further risk to our people, we will do as _John_ asked," replied Elizabeth. She nodded back behind Ronon toward the control room and Zelenka. "Did you see anything useful in the emails?"

Ronon nodded his head. "McKay's notes on what they're making him work on. If he doesn't know the answer, some asshole named Kolya takes it out on Sheppard. Didn't have to go back far to figure McKay's pissed off and tired of it. He almost turned their power reactor into a bomb but Sheppard talked him out of it."

Teyla crossed her arms. "I don't believe we have days, Elizabeth," she said. Elizabeth nodded her agreement, looking pained.

"All we can do is start with what we have," she said. She passed the tablet in her hands over to Teyla. "You know Cowen. Can you get Zelenka to give you access to those emails? See if anything at all stands out that we can use?"

Teyla accepted the task with a nod, though she wasn't sure she could be much help. Her knowledge of the chief was limited, of a much more peaceful man, and it was all based on a lie. And she noticed, too, how quickly Ronon had abandoned reading the emails to seek out Elizabeth. He had been angry since before the Stargate had closed, but now the man was beyond that. He was calm, ready to act, but there was rage in the tightness of his eyes, in the subtle way he bared his teeth when he spoke. Elizabeth seemed to notice it, too, and was quick to turn her attention back to him.

"Did your contact in Tarnth have anything to chase down?" she asked. Ronon seemed non-committal on the slight topic shift.

"There's one ship in the area. It's under an unknown banner, though. More erratic than usual for them. The ship took on new men not long ago. Made it known they're going after Wraith," Ronon said. Teyla didn't like the sound of that.

"I thought you said these were the people who helped you run _from_ the Wraith," she said. "So why now would they run toward them?"

"Change in the captain can change the ship," replied Ronon. 

"So the Genii _may_ have an ally with a ship," Elizabeth concluded. "And based on what you saw in the emails, we can't guarantee Rodney won't have told them a backdoor around our stargate's security."

Ronon scowled and agreed with only part of the assessment. "McKay wouldn't have."

"We can't _count_ on that, is all I am cautioning," said Elizabeth. "The Daedalus will be returning in the next twelve to eighteen hours. When it gets here, we can redirect Col. Caldwell to the Genii planet to see what he can find. Maybe if we're lucky they really are on the surface and the Daedalus can get a lock on their transmitters."

It was a nice wish, but none of them put any faith in it after watching John lie to them, sunshine and shadows on his face or not. 

"I can check one more source," said Ronon. He didn't seem settled on it, like it was a distraction from what he wanted to be working on. "And I should be back before the Daedalus."

" _Should_?" Teyla asked. "Should you be going at all if it's so far from the stargate?"

"The Travelers don't do well with strangers, so no, you can't go with me," said Ronon. His lips quirked up at the edge because he knew what she had really been asking. Teyla tapped the tablet in her hand against his shoulder, frowned up at him.

"I have my own work to do, thank you," she reminded him. All the same, she tilted her head and lifted her chin, and because he was taller than her, he did the hard work of leaning down to kiss her as penance for his sass. Teyla made sure to make it worth the trouble before stepping back again. "Just be careful. And successful."

Neither of them felt like smiling, but Ronon smiled for her and she mirrored it. Then, with a nod to Elizabeth, Teyla excused herself from the room to go work with Zelenka.

* * *

When the soldiers escorted John outside, he found Rodney sitting on the steps of what amounted to the meeting hall's front porch, head in his hands. Without asking permission, he sat down next to him, closer than strictly necessary, but Rodney was used to that from him. 

"Hey," he said, quiet. When McKay glanced over at him, Sheppard made an effort to make Rodney parrot a smile back at him. Rodney huffed at him and went back to staring at the ground between his boots.

"Get up, let's go," said Kolya, not far away. John looked over at him, not in the mood.

"Don't take this personally, _sir_ , but you can leave if you're busy," John told him. He didn't exactly tell the Commander to _fuck off,_ but it was probably clear enough in his tone. "I did what you wanted. You'll get what you wanted from Atlantis. And we're _still here_. So we can take ten minutes in the sun after two months in a hole."

Kolya started back toward him and John stood up, nearly giving Rodney a heart attack, guessing from the way he quickly grabbed the nearest part of John he could reach to drag him back down. John pulled him up instead and Kolya slowed his steps. They had two guards and Cowen at their backs, and Kolya and two other soldiers in front of them, and it was all less than ideal.

"Your terrible performance has yet to actually yield results, Sheppard, so no, you _don't_ get to dictate what will or will not happen," Kolya told him. 

"No, but I damn well earned the right to ask. Excuse me if my words aren't _perfect_ , I don't get out much anymore for practice with 'em," John shot back. "It's still a biological _fact_ , humans need sunlight, need plants and oxygen. Vitamin D and fresh air are _necessary_. Not _optional_. So if you can lock me up in the infirmary for three days, you can let us sit in the sun for _ten minutes._ "

"I'll allow it," said Chief Cowen behind them. He stepped forward and put a hand on John's shoulder to force him back down to the steps. Sheppard went without too much resistance and he sat, which was right where he wanted to be. Rodney still stood, concerned and confused, as he looked between Kolya and Cowen, not sure what to do. Cowen trotted down the steps, pausing to point Rodney's attention to the stairs. "Sit."

Rodney dropped quickly back to where he had been before and Cowen glanced at each of them before aiming the impassive glare at Sheppard. "Twenty minutes and then you're both done for the day and will be returned to Dr. McKay's quarters. If I haven't heard back from Dr. Weir in two hours, Sheppard goes back to the brig. But for now... We'll try good faith, one more time."

"Yessir," said John, bitterness stomped down in favor of even a temporary reprieve. Cowen accepted it and started walking away, collecting Kolya as he went. Considering he had taken advantage of their good faith to send a message, it wasn’t much of a surprise that the Genii were forgetting their promise that simply making the call guaranteed John would stay with Rodney. It was still contingent on their perceived success. John just had to trust that Elizabeth was going to come through for them.

"Commander Kolya, with me, if you would," the Chief said. And Kolya went with him, because he was a lapdog still trying to earn back his leash. John actually smiled when the men were far enough away. 

"That felt _really_ good," he muttered at Rodney, turning his smirk on the dirt under his boots as he kicked it. Real dirt, not radioactive dust. With weeds and rocks in it.

"Yeah, I bet. Remember that when the next one gets me killed," Rodney replied. John lifted his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders at that. He was pretty sure it would go the other way around if Atlantis didn't pull off a miracle, but there were no guarantees if the Genii kept letting John heal finally. 

He had lots of practice minding his temper when just holding up a few pounds of chain dragged on his energy and strength, but it wasn't as easy when the muscles started to acclimate after being allowed some time to heal. His shoulder was still a mess and John was still too exhausted and knew he wouldn't have lasted five seconds if Kolya had brought the fight he had been challenged to, but that was _hindsight_. At the time... Sheppard was allowed to be pissed off, and at least Cowen was smart enough to have seen that.

John bumped his elbow at Rodney's. "I _may_ have sent 'lizabeth an email."

A wide-eyed Rodney looked over at him then. " _May have_?"

John nodded and smirked at him, happily squinting in the sun. Then he shrugged. "Who knows."

McKay fell quiet again. He checked his watch not long later. Stayed suspiciously silent as he looked around at the broad daylight neighborhood that was absolutely silent as people were either off working or hiding their children indoors from a bad case of chickenpox. Then Rodney checked the time again.

"Seventeen minutes left," he announced. John did laugh at that, quiet. Rodney tapped his knee to draw his attention back. John let him have it, along with an almost relaxed smile.

"This close enough to a pier for you, or do we need to wait?" Rodney asked, waving a pointing finger vaguely around at the porch. John was surprised by the question and processed it a little slower, but he was already grinning as it settled in. 

"Well, it would definitely pass the time," he replied. Rodney caught his arm and tugged him closer and John met him halfway for the kiss. He was well past caring what the Genii soldiers thought about it and leaned into every inch of Rodney's space that their porch step-bench would allow. Their hands were in each other's laps and their tongues were mapping territory in each other's mouths and there was sun on their faces to help chase out two months of cold. It felt stupidly good, considering the rollercoaster the day had been so far. 

Nobody interrupted them with so much as a cough. According to Rodney's watch, they broke for air with about five minutes left of their sun-allotment. In deference to the fact that they would have to walk back sooner than either of them wanted to, John dropped down a step to remove the temptation to pick things back up. Rodney slid over and, before John realized fully what had happened, he was tucked up behind on the step above him, and his legs stretched out along John's. He hugged his arms over John's collar and set his chin on his clean-again, fluffed up, shaggy hair. John grinned as he felt more kisses, even though he wasn't able to give any back. 

And they enjoyed their last minutes of sunshine with Rodney's chest rumbling behind him as he started talking again, about the planet's sun and the importance of sunblock and protection from all forms of radiation, really, and how it wasn't really useful to just roll in the mud when a high SPF sunscreen could be applied more consistently and was much more effective, but after a certain point, the numbers on commercial sunblock just became ridiculous marketing ploys and it was really much better to make his own. 

And John hoped he was able to get back to doing that, and soon. Safe and sound, back at home would be nice, but he didn't add that part out loud because their guards were watching the clocks on their own wrists. At twenty minutes on the dot, they were moved out.

* * *

Most everything in the emails, it turned out, were connections, ideas, sketches of solutions to engineering and scientific problems that related to Atlantis operations far beyond Teyla's ability to make sense of them. It seemed that while Rodney worked on the "tedious" problems of the Genii infrastructure, it caused something almost like boredom that, according to his third email from two months earlier, allowed him to "crack the secrets" that had been hidden from him on Atlantis. From what Teyla could understand, one of those secrets was the color tone of the lighting in Lab 4, but it was apparently no longer a stumbling block for Rodney. 

The first two emails, however, were not meant to be read by anyone. They were Rodney's scrambled effort at making their treatment make some kind of sense. Not all of it was even in a language Teyla knew as he went from thought-process to thought-process, event to event. He had used the laptop camera to take a photo of a Genii jail, displayed on a Genii computer monitor, showing a stained wood table, a knocked over chair, and puddles of blood. Rodney had woken up to the images on the Genii screen and couldn't handle it, seeing enough of his friend's blood to be sick. Months later, it was certainly proof that John was in no way safe, that the injuries they had admitted to on the call were very real.

And for months, in that environment, there was no one around for them to talk to in order to process it. Teyla could see that being harmful to both of them, but especially perhaps Rodney, who was a constant blur of movement and noise as he talked to his friends, and argued with his colleagues, to figure out everything from what he selected for lunch that day to how to save the city... That very same Rodney was alone in an empty room every hour of the day, with nothing to keep him company except proof that their friend had been brutally hurt. When Rodney was completely isolated, he had taken to the emails to talk himself through it.

Teyla took the email project over from Zelenka entirely after she read the first two. And she requested Elizabeth to make it an order that Rodney's emails be locked back up behind a secure password, now that they knew where he was and that they _would_ be getting him back. And Zelenka was intimidated enough by Teyla's having made the decision to lock them down that he was quick to honor the request. Teyla was not glad she had read them, but she was glad she had read them before anyone else could.

The emails Rodney sent to Zelenka offered many ideas for fixing various daily operations between the expedition computers and Atlantis, and were otherwise normal communications from Rodney McKay. With the exception of two, in which he both praised Zelenka's work for the city, and apologized for never actually acknowledging the effort out loud. Radek took his glasses off and slumped in his chair for a few minutes after relaying that find to Teyla. 

Not long after that, Elizabeth had the information she needed to risk a call to Chief Cowen. It had been not quite two hours since they had seen John and Rodney. Ronon had left on his reconnaissance effort, and Major Lorne had yet to return from his. Teyla stayed with her in the control room as they made the call. There was no visual communication feed, which made things easier as Teyla would not have been able to stand where Cowen might see the anger on her face after reading about the torment the man was putting Rodney and John through.

The communication line was eventually established and Chuck passed the call to Elizabeth's office. Teyla sat beside her as they both glared hateful at the innocent computer that had to serve as the relay point.

"Apologies for the delay, Chief Cowen. As you are aware, we've been dealing with a crisis of our own. Our personnel are still, to this minute, trying to deal with the situation of our missing officers," Director Weir began. 

"I'm sure it has kept you busy, but what does that have to do with this call?" Cowen asked, gruff and disinterested, from his tone.

"We received a message from our missing Colonel Sheppard reminding us we had made a commitment, and as we now know he is alive and well, we have been able to divest some resources," said Elizabeth. She paused, expecting some response from the Genii, and Cowen did not disappoint.

"Your officers are well? All this trouble for men who, what, abandoned their posts?" he asked, a fair amount of censure in the tone. "I don't know how you handle things, but there is a hefty punishment for _officers_ who walk away from their people."

"From the sounds of it, the Colonel can't do much walking at the moment. It would seem he is injured. But we are still holding out hope that when they are healthy enough, they will return," said Elizabeth. The Genii lies were wearing on her patience. "So with thanks to his reminder that things had fallen through the cracks on our end, I wanted to reach out and arrange with you a delivery of the inoculation against the pox. We can't spare the medical team, but we can provide the medicines."

"Wonderful. I will send someone to receive it," said Cowen.

"Oh, no, it won't be possible for a few days, Chief Cowen," said Elizabeth. The Director was smiling and keeping it from her voice. "As I said, my medical team has been busy with our own concerns in recent weeks. And I still have resources invested in the search for my officers. So the work to provide multiple colonies with adequate inoculations will take time away from that. We can provide the assistance, but we can't change the simple reality of time in regards to the chemical properties of medicines, as well as simply having the team available to escort it."

"It's already been weeks," Cowen replied. "How could it take this long?"

"And in those weeks, due to our situation, our doctor has no more than fifty doses prepared. I assume you will require more than that for multiple colonies? We can deliver what we have, but that will hardly make much of a dent. Particularly not knowing what size of a population needs to be protected."

"And I again point out that had you been working on this from the point at which you agreed to, and we paid you for-"

"Chief Cowen, I told you at the time that we would do what we could. We sent our medical team to assess. You knew of my missing officers at the time and agreed it was acceptable at the timeline my team could manage," said Elizabeth. "If you don't want the assistance we are capable of, say so now and we will send the doses we have and my teams can go back to the safety concerns of our own people."

"Three days then," said Cowen.

"My doctors have told me they need four, with delivery on the fifth," replied Elizabeth. "These compounds require a curing time. It is not possible to argue with science. At least, not successfully, as I'm sure you have learned by now." 

There was no keeping the smile out of her voice then. She exchanged a glance with Teyla, the both of them thinking of Rodney and his rants rather than about anything Carson or Dr. Spencer had said about the inoculations. Cowen had nothing kind to say about her stance, but he didn't argue. The terms - for what they were - were agreed to and Elizabeth was glad to close the line and order the Stargate shut down.

"I hate this," Elizabeth confided when the Genii were once again safely shut out of Atlantis. "Everything he offers is stubbornly rooted in lies and there's no point talking, but that is all we can do. Even with the Daedalus, we don't have the numbers to do much. They're, what, in a nuclearized, underground bunker? With more _soldiers_ on site than we have _population_."

"Maybe Ronon or Major Lorne will return with a different assessment," Teyla replied. But even that was a hollow hope that did nothing for Elizabeth's read of the situation currently. Teyla tried another tack. "Will it really take five days?"

Elizabeth shook her head and smiled bitterly. "Oh, no. They're ready. Have been ready for weeks. But once he has them, Cowen will shut us out. I'm... Stalling. He has to maintain this joke of an alliance until we get our men back."

* * *

Two hours later, Rodney and John were back in _Rodney's_ room. They had both received lunch, and apparently it was the third day in a row that John had been given more than a single meal in a day. He left a lot of food in the bowl still, not hungry yet, and Rodney was quick to clean it up rather than waste it. His nerves were shot and he needed the extra calories, and John didn't have any complaints. They sat at the head of the bed with the game book, though both of them were very distracted and they had to switch to sudoku. Less mental tracking of moves, more right in front of their faces on the page.

Rodney was anxiously waiting for John to be dragged out. And the further from the two-hour mark they got, the more he relaxed. 

"Do you think Elizabeth sent the medical supplies?" Rodney finally asked. John nodded.

"They'll figure out something. I told her where we were. Oh, and I sent your entire outbox, because that thing looked like it was going to break," he replied. Rodney froze up for a moment but gradually reassured himself that it was okay.

"I emailed myself notes. And some thoughts to Sam and Radek for projects they're working on, how to fix some errors. Things... Got a little clearer after not working on those projects, so I wrote them down," he said. "I didn't expect I would get to send them."

"Shit... Sorry, I didn't think they were _new_ ," said John, and he cringed as he said it. Rodney shook his head. 

"It's fine. Nothing in them I shouldn't have said in person anyway," Rodney replied. The things he had sent to himself, however, he hoped would die somewhere in the server unseen. 

"I don't want to jinx it or anything, but," John began, and Rodney rolled his eyes.

"No. You don't get to say _I told you so_ on the positive thinking just because you sent _emails_ ," Rodney interrupted. And John broke into a grin for it as he stared at him, but he made at least a passing attempt to stay sober about it. He ducked his head to Rodney's like he could _cute_ his way out of it and Rodney stubbornly refused.

"Just because they're the morons who thought they could have their cake and eat it too doesn't mean we have to trust anything at all going in any way in a positive direction," he said. "Don't forget. There's still a metal door between us and... And... A maze of radioactive corridors that either take us into the toxic sludge of the lower levels, or out to the sunshine, and the only way to find out which direction is which requires sneaking through an entire _army_... People with guns and knives and whipping metal sticks."

The grin faded, but John stayed in his space. He lifted his hand and poked at Rodney's chin until he reluctantly risked looking at him. 

"Maybe for a few hours we can leave that stuff _out there_ , huh? I don't _want_ it in here right now," he said. "And it doesn't have to be. There's a door there that's staying closed until somebody else decides to open it, anyway."

"I just mean-"

John nodded and tapped his forehead against Rodney's. "I know what you mean, Rodney. I just don't _want_ to think about it for a few hours. At all. Positive or anything."

"That's good. It's not your job, anyway," said Rodney, somewhat bitter about the idea of just being able to turn off his brain and _not think_. That was a _fantasy_.

"Hey. You want something to figure out right now?" John asked. Rodney decided to take the bait and stopped complaining at the man.

"What?"

John smirked at him from inches away. "You can get laid if you can figure out how to keep _me_ from thinking."

"Like that's diffi-" Rodney cut off the default-taunting when he remembered the last time they had gotten somewhere remotely close to hot and heavy, it had actually been not _difficult_ but _impossible_. And John stared back at him, gauging and waiting and probably a heartbeat from retreat. This time he at least had a direction: no thinking. 

"That's... Okay, before that happens, I need more information," Rodney said. John rolled his eyes and lolled his head back to thump against the wall. Rodney put a hand to his chest to keep him from pulling back. "No, we'll get back there to the other part but... That's just how this works."

"There's no user manual," John replied. "Trust me. Just... Busted software."

"The schematics says there's nothing wrong with the hardware," Rodney said, tapping his fingers over the other man's heart, and John at least laughed again. Rodney wasn't letting it go this time. "So, what, we reprogram some code? We _have_ done that."

John shook his head. "It's _not_ a computer game though, McKay."

"For once, I wasn't the one being literal," Rodney pointed out. " _Aside_ from ferris wheels and football and flying, what... do you like?"

With a shrug, John drew up from his sprawl, knees up and his hands scrubbing anxiously at his thighs like he had to work something off his palms. "Don't know. It's... Normally somebody else just does their thing and I keep up. Not all that great, but it's usually enough for them."

That took a moment to process. "What?"

It looked like it pained Sheppard to say anything, but he wasn't shoving Rodney away this time. "What? It's been a long time since high school, buddy, and what I like doesn't exactly... Enter the equation. You have to _like_ something besides the person to start with. And if you don't, you just... Do whatever gets _them_ there. I can _help_. That way, somebody gets _something_ out of it."

"Except you?" asked Rodney. He knew the shock was on his face but it wasn't easy to get his mind around just then, and _he_ was the genius in the room. John tilted his head in an effort to dismiss it, but he pulled back from it. Slumped against the wall, resigned, and Rodney tugged at his shirt.

"I mean... It's..." John floundered around on it. "Look, I can't say it matters any. It's what people do. I'm used to it. What these guys did... Not that different from anything else except the bastard wanted to cause pain more than get off. I know if I get stuck on the pain, I'm out, like before."

"That's... _Not_ how this works," Rodney began, and John quickly started to nod.

"I get that. And I told you. You can't break something already busted," he replied. "I just don't... I can't exactly pick and choose what's okay or not in this stuff. They... go together."

Rodney wanted to argue with everything John had just said, but the man had drawn in on himself enough that it hurt to watch. He had tried, like Rodney had asked him to, and it had left them in virtually the opposite place of where they had both wanted to be. The problem was that John offered up something he didn’t even like just to make Rodney happy. Rodney had no idea how to get around that particular stumbling block, when he had absolutely no desire to join the ranks of anyone who took what they wanted and left John to make sense of what was left.

No solutions presented themselves immediately, but there were some things Rodney had learned that John _did_ like. He sought out kisses and touches and even asked for them when he was too medicated to realize it. So that was where Rodney would start. He leaned back into John's space to press careful kisses to his jaw to try to draw him out of the defensive withdrawal to the wall.

John had eased toward him by the time their lips actually met and Rodney had slid his hand to John's side to pull him closer. He didn't relax as he had been before, but he _complied_ , and he was the one to lick at Rodney's mouth and take the kisses beyond a simple touch. Rodney didn't push, just raised his arms to pull John in against him, to hold him careful. Not afraid that John would break, but suddenly aware of the tension he didn't want to feel under the man's layers ever again. Figuring out how to chase that away was going to take him some thinking. 

When John did seem to relax, Rodney eased back from the kisses and rubbed at the man's arms. It took some work but he coached John into sitting up, away from the wall, and then put himself between him and the cold rock and cement. Then, legs stretched out along either side of John's, Rodney tugged him back against him and hugged him from behind, not unlike what John had been doing for him the past two months, but somehow closer, reclined against the wall and wrapped around him. More kisses to his forehead, because it was all Rodney could reach, and John set his head back against his shoulder to look back and up at him. 

"What-"

" _This_ counts." said Rodney. 

John nodded, distracted, and he dropped his hands to Rodney's legs on either side of him, fingers kneading like a cat over his pants at his thighs. Keeping Rodney tugged in close.

* * *


	14. Chapter 14

Major Lorne returned with yet more confirmation of where Rodney and John were. He walked through the Stargate wearing the alarming uniform of the Genii and Teyla was thankful Ronon was not there to have reacted. He would have shot the Major before the man had removed his hat. Instead, she and Elizabeth met him in the gateroom to press for a report.

"I was able to see them, at the mountain complex, when I followed Cowen's unit over there. Got in the room with McKay and Colonel Sheppard. But they split them up when Cowen got them through the 'gate again. They've got McKay working with their nuclear scientists, but he refused to stay near the reactor so he's at least in no more danger than anybody else in that city," Lorne said, shaking his head. At the reminder, Elizabeth started them walking toward the infirmary.

"Can you get an extraction team into the city?" Elizabeth asked. Evan winced and nodded.

"If we can get more of these uniforms, sure. The larger problem is finding them. I didn't see where they stashed the Colonel this time. And he's... Pretty rough, not going to sugarcoat that. Even the last three days in the infirmary didn't make much of a difference from what I saw. Kolya's a real piece of work," said Evan, the uncharacteristic anger slipping out. Teyla nodded her understanding as she walked alongside. "So anything we do, if we time it right, we can get Rodney out of the labs easily. He’s on a schedule. But it's the Colonel that will be a problem. From what I've seen this week, they bury him. Unless he's needed for something, like that call today."

"Yes, we thought the call was _incredibly kind_ of the Genii," said Director Weir with a sarcastic smile. Lorne returned it and peeled out of the jacket as he walked, ridding himself of the costume with a, well, _polite_ disgust.

"I think our best shot is to get the uniforms," said Lorne. "Sneak a team in. We can get the Colonel out first, because nobody knows what he even looks like, they've got him so far buried. We risk them scrambling to move McKay, but we can follow them wherever they move him, and he's safe because he's useful. But they'll just kill the Colonel if we slip up and can't get them both out at once."

"Alright. I'll start putting something together to get more uniforms made," said Elizabeth. They were at the infirmary and Carson was on approach to quarantine the Major. "We might need you to travel to the market at M26-735 with a team to get supplies. We aren't exactly equipped to produce whole-cloth textiles, let alone these colors."

"Yes ma'am," was all Evan had to say to that. "It may be easier to steal them from another outpost again. I'll see if I can hammer out some better specifics. While I'm killing time anyway."

Teyla watched as Carson shoved pills and a cup of water at the Major and he was whisked away to be put through the regular checks after an off-world mission, and probably a few more as Lorne had been gone longer and around radiation. She and Elizabeth made their way out to go back to the control room. She volunteered to go on the mission to secure the uniform supplies when the marines went and the Director nodded instant agreement. It was a nice reminder that Director Weir still had confidence in her abilities to help their teams, even if she was grounding Teyla on the eventual mission to get her team back. 

It was midnight before Ronon returned. Teyla was in her own rooms and not actually sleeping, her mind too busy. Worry for Ronon had joined her worry for John and Rodney by then and she was avoiding the dreams that could result from the mix stewing around. She had been able to sleep soundly the week after the team had been split up, and now she knew the others hadn’t. Irrational as it was, Teyla couldn’t settle that in her mind this time. So she was dressed and heading for the gym when the doors to her rooms opened and Ronon stood in her way. She took one look at his face and shook her head. 

“Gym,” she said. She collected the Banto rods in their carrier and pulled it over her shoulder as she took his hand. He held tight; a full grown man who could defend himself against anything in at least one galaxy and he clung to her hand like a lifeline he was afraid to let go of. The unknown cause of it fed the anger and fear Teyla had been stewing on already, but they would not be discussing it in the halls.

In the gym, she set the carrier down and handed two sticks to Ronon, kept two for herself, and then moved to the middle of the floor. She waited Ronon out, eyebrow arched as she stood to listen or to fight, his choice. He moved with the sticks and Teyla parried them aside, stepping into the fight. Then, after a few solid contacts with the sticks, she nodded.

"You are normally much more relaxed after your solo trips. What did you learn?" she asked. One wild blow went wide and Teyla ducked the next one.

"The Genii wanted a ship. Kolya found them a ship," said Ronon, the anger adding volume.

"How?"

"Since he was exiled, he found a Traveler captain willing to work with him. He's got the men. And the ship gets him back in with Cowen," said Ronon.

"And _Rodney_ gets him back in with Cowen," replied Teyla. Ronon nodded.

"But that's not the worst of it," he said. And the anger hit a new level and Ronon had to physically back off. Working through the aggression wasn't helping and the topic was getting under his skin. Teyla stood still and waited, holding the sticks to her shoulders at rest because she wasn't done yet herself. Ronon paced away and then came back.

"The ship Kolya got? Brought on a new captain in the last year, with it some new crew? Second in command is Aiden Ford. _Sheppard's_ second in command. And _he's_ who allied with Kolya."

"No." For a few seconds, Teyla forgot to breathe. Ronon nodded once.

"There's been a bounty on Lanteans with the ATA for months now. Someone's been sending out these papers with Sheppard's face on them, McKay, Lorne, some of the Marines. I brought 'em back, showed Weir already. Ford's the one listed for the contract."

It only seemed to get worse and Teyla shook her head. "I know Aiden is angry, but he would not have done this to the Colonel. Not after everything-"

But _everything_ would have left Ford isolated and injured, even if he could heal, angry, and it hadn't left the young man fully stable the last time they had seen him. An alliance with an enemy would be an easy thing to arrange once he had access to the ships the enemies wanted. And the Genii had the most modern weapons in the Galaxy that they had encountered so far. Teyla could see how it happened. But she didn't want to.

The anger burned out into simple, gut-punched _hurt_ and Teyla tossed the sticks away before she tried to break them. Her shoulders slumped as she curled over crossed arms to hold herself in. 

She stood in the gym, shaking from something that felt like grief. Responsibility to her small found-family and the absolute failure to keep them together. Loss. Ronon curled up around her, a wall against the outside and a boundary to keep her secure in familiar territory. 

Her team was her family, no different than Halling or any other Athosian, and that connection was what made Atlantis her home. Now the family was fractured, badly. Aiden had been one of them. And he had chased himself so far away that he had come back to hurt them, perhaps on purpose. They had been no help to Aiden when he needed them, and Teyla had no way to help John and Rodney as it unfolded further. 

* * *

The next morning was somber and seemed to be held in time, with nothing to be done except wait. Walking from her quarters to Elizabeth's office took longer and Teyla kept her hand in Ronon's for the entire walk. 

"Ronon told you?" Elizabeth asked, and Teyla confirmed it with a nod. 

"John knew Aiden was mad when we last saw him, but the Colonel tried to work with him," Teyla said. "He _asked us_ to work with him, he thought we could... Bring him back. Eventually."

"The Wraith tend to change people's minds," Ronon pointed out. 

"Apparently not too drastically if he's trying to turn your nomadic mercenary friends into a mobilized Wraith attack force," said Elizabeth. She shook her head and sank back in her chair. The doors opened again and Major Lorne walked in.

"You wanted to see me, Doc?" 

"Yes. There's been a complication," she said. She handed the Major the pictures that Ronon had brought back. "There is a good chance you were recognized the first time you were with the Genii. Unless you can grow a beard in compliance with Genii military regulations in under four days, we're going to need another plan."

"Ma'am?" Lorne was confused.

"There's been a... Well, a bounty, set on you and other members of your team. Throughout Pegasus, apparently. And the Genii are involved if not directly responsible," Elizabeth replied. "It's similar to the problem with sending Teyla back. They may be expecting these faces enough to see past the uniform."

Lorne stared down at the pictures in his hand, one of them his own face, with various languages written along the sides and backs of the images that would make no sense at all to the young Major. But he seemed to understand the severity of it based on the Director's cautions alone.

"Four days?" he asked, clarifying. She nodded.

"That's when we'll have to send a team - one without the gene, apparently - to deliver the medicines we promised the Genii. And it will probably be the last formal communication we have with them, short of a war."

"Having seen how they treat their supposed allies, ma'am, I'm not overly enthusiastic about seeing what war looks like in this galaxy," Lorne replied. Elizabeth winced in sympathy.

"Exactly, Major. So we're going to need some new ideas," she said. Lorne nodded his understanding and waved the photos. 

"Mind if I sit with these and my notes for an hour? See if I can come up with something else. There's got to be something. I was all over that place. I just need to spend some time on it," he said. 

"We don't have a lot of that," Ronon offered up. Lorne looked over at him.

"I understand that. Believe me. But I've got a week's worth of intel to review and I'd rather not have to rush that when it gets down to the Colonel and Dr. McKay's lives," he said. He checked his watch and then looked up at Elizabeth again. "And the Daedalus will be here in less than five hours, so everything may change when I can report to Colonel Caldwell on this situation, regardless."

It made sense, so no one argued. Elizabeth reached to hand the Major the pictures he hadn't scooped up off her desk already. "Take the time, Major. And check in with me in an hour."

The Major offered a respectful salute and turned to leave.

"This is stupid. We already know what we need to and we already waited too long," Ronon said when the doors closed, his impatience showing. "How far do you think I could get with a P90 and some flashbangs?"

"No, Ronon," said Elizabeth and Teyla both.

* * *

Other than a brief interruption for dinner, the door stayed closed. John spent most of the afternoon asleep where Rodney had set him up, and the man didn't even complain about it when they finally moved to get dinner. Rodney moved stiff from having had all that dead-weight trapping him against a wall, but when John tried to apologize, he cut him a glare, so John shut up. Dinner was there for both of them, and no one showed up to shove John back in shackles to haul him off to the brig.

John counted it as a win, but he wouldn't say so out loud. He tried to start up a game in the book once their plates were gone, but he passed out again, and didn't notice when Rodney killed the lights and went to sleep under the blankets instead of on them. He folded one over John, though, and just kept the other rather than wake him up to fuss about it.

In the morning, it was Cowen's little buddy Ladon Radim who showed up to retrieve Rodney for "work." John sat on the edge of the bed to await the chain lead being attached, just like the old routine, and Ladon just looked in at him. It felt like a kid looking in at the tigers at the zoo and John blinked back, surprised. 

"Did Elizabeth send the inoculations?" Rodney asked, stalling as he sorted out the notebooks, waiting for the soldier with Ladon to lock up John.

"They won't be ready for four days," Ladon replied. "But the arrangements were made. And if she keeps her word, your situation will remain as it is."

John looked from the Genii to Rodney, tugged absently at the handcuffs he apparently hadn't had to lock himself into after all. Rodney waved Ladon's attention to John. "So he can stay here? As he is?"

"He's not allowed in the labs, Dr. McKay," Ladon said. "Chief Cowen said you would ask and he said you already know this."

"That's not what I- you know what, forget it," Rodney said. He checked his jacket pocket for the key and had it tucked in his palm as he walked back to John to say goodbye for the morning. They shared a kiss as Rodney pressed the key into John's hand and squeezed. John smirked at him for it and kept it hidden. 

"What about breakfast?" Rodney asked as he headed to the door with his pack. Ladon stepped away to wave him out ahead, and even nodded politely to John as he followed after Rodney.

"In a few hours, probably," the Genii promised casually. The door shut behind him, locking loudly, with the lights still on. John had the shackles off in seconds and put the key in the pocket on the shirt with the scrambler. The stupid tangle of circuits at least worked to keep appearances up when it gave him an excuse for a pocket. 

And then John was back to staring at a wall and waiting for a door to open. This time there was a shower in the bathroom and John spent about a half hour sitting on the floor in the open doorway staring at the running water. He had _hated_ the shower the day before. And the rain the week before that. For _reasons_. Relating to _water_. And John Sheppard would _not_ be afraid of water for very long. 

When breakfast showed up, John left the water running and closed himself in the tiny bathroom before the keys had finished their clatter in the lock on the hall door. He had learned his lesson about trusting the doors opening without someone with rank around and if they were going to let him hide he would take them up on it. He shut the door and then moved to lean against it, listening through the cheap wood to be sure the outer, metal door was locked again from the outside. Only then did he turn the water off and let himself out of the bathroom. And sure enough, he had breakfast waiting for him. 

The game notebook and sleep were the only real options for entertainment and John added pacing around the room just to sneak in some variety. He could try to get some strength back. They didn't bring lunch. Or if they did, he slept through it, but he doubted that. John had graduated to attempting push ups by the time the door opened again. Rodney was the only one who walked in that time. John peeked over the top of the bed at him from the floor near the bathroom door.

"What- are you-?" Rodney blurted when he saw him. John smirked at him and got up off his knees, dusting his hands off. He snagged his shirt off the edge of the bed and shrugged into it.

"Bored. Push ups," he said. "Anything going on at the labs today?"

Rodney dumped his backpack of notebooks and made a face. "Ladon was assigned to help me with the computer project. They think their team can carry the reactor adjustments with my _guidance_. Because they're idiots. But I'm yelling if they do anything stupid and I already warned them."

John accepted that with a nod. Not letting idiots blow up the reactor was a worthy enough cause to risk it. "So Ladon's a... Computer idiot?"

The look on Rodney's face then was a scowl. "Worse. He's _competent_. He can program. Kolya had him working the computers on Atlantis. It's... Deja Vu all over again."

"Well, it's not our ship this time," John pointed out. 

"Right. And Ladon's the _snitch_ to make sure I don't screw the city over. But he says I'm supposed to _teach_ him. Apparently there's a difference." Rodney crashed onto the edge of the bed with a put-upon sigh and John walked up and started kicking at the toes of his boots, just to give him something else to be annoyed by. His shoulders sagged and he looked up at John.

" _Really_?" he asked. John shrugged and grinned at him. Rodney hugged him around his waist and buried his face in John's shirt rather than rise to the bait. That was also acceptable, though it put a delay to the rough-housing John had in mind. He felt... hyper, and wanted noise and movement, and Rodney was usually good for those. 

But before he could get comfy with the determined hug, Rodney let go. He looked up at John again as his hands caught hips instead.

"Shirt off. I felt blood," and Rodney was very pale. John quickly pulled away and tugged it off over his head as Rodney moved to stand up. His friend had gotten paranoid about John's back after the first round, and while the two new stripes had been cared for, John _had_ been attempting pushups. 

"Did I screw it up?" he asked over his shoulder. Rodney nodded at him and went off to the bathroom for a towel. "How bad?"

Rodney came back and carefully poked the wet handtowel near the stripe to instant stinging. "Just the side over your shoulder blade."

"Should be okay. This set was shallow," John reasoned. Rodney made barely visible faces as he cleaned up his back.

"Shallow or not, no more pushups," he muttered. "I hate this."

"Yeah, I'll stick to _pacing_ ," said John. He started to apologize but Rodney looked up to glare at him, so it turned quickly into a " _Thanks for catching it,_ " instead. This was not the attention he wanted, and John's plans for annoying Rodney for their mutual entertainment slipped away. He had to shuck the shirt and wash off the blood anyway. By then, there was dinner to be eaten, and then John was tired again. 

"This sucks," he complained as he crawled into bed, stuck sleeping on his stomach again to accommodate the reopened cut across his back. Rodney stared at him, confusion plain even in just the light from the bathroom.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I must have missed something. When did the ratio of _suck-to-not-suck_ change over the last two months?" he asked dryly. John reached up to poke at Rodney's face with his hand between them. 

"When _I_ got the key back," he said. Rodney swatted at him but John kept it up until McKay caught his hand and cheated, folding their fingers together and holding him still. That was acceptable, and John yawned at him and settled. He fell asleep hardly minutes later, with Rodney curled toward him like a shield against anything beyond the door.

* * *

There was no point in waking John up with the new policy shift in place. He didn't have to sit on the edge of the bed and wait to be locked up anymore. So Rodney didn't say anything to wake him and simply got himself dressed and put together enough to be around idiots he didn't like and waited by the door in the dark. He startled the guard and Ladon when he caught the door from them and let himself out, the keys still dangling from the lock.

Ladon eyed the door suspiciously as Rodney pulled it closed and handed the keys back to the guard. "What is this?"

Confused, Rodney dangled the keychain at the man. "This is _keys_?" he replied. "The door is locked. Check it yourself."

And Rodney stepped aside as Ladon did. He seemed satisfied and reclaimed the keys. "Why are you keeping us out of there now? You know that won't work."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I'm not. He's asleep. I want him to stay that way. He tore open one of the cuts."

That seemed to amuse Ladon. "Did _you_ get enough sleep, Dr. McKay?"

Rodney ignored him and started the trek to the lab on his own. "As I have said before, if it offends anyone, they're welcome to get me a bigger room, one with _two_ beds."

They would still take up only one of them, Rodney was sure, but it would apparently make _everyone else_ feel better about how Rodney spent his time. And so, for the crime of trying to be kind, Rodney started the day off confrontational and annoyed. It didn't get much better, because the computer parts he and Ladon were assembling were all well and good, but without a circuit board there was no point in the errand at all, and Ladon kept giving him static about the circuit boards.

"How is this hard?" Rodney said boldly to the man. He pointed at the pieces spread out on the table in front of them. "We need a conductive material to power the chips, and we need a storage device, and this right here will allow you to-"

"Yes, fine, but we want the rewritable crystal data storage," replied Ladon. Rodney scowled at him.

"That's nice. I want a pony. Maybe if we hope _really_ hard, the galaxy fairies will just pop them out for us," he replied. He shook his head as Ladon got annoyed back at him. "I told you. We don't have the Atlantean crystals down enough to just merge the technology yet. If I had a full team, doing _nothing else_ but _that_ , maybe we could crack it within the next five years. But I _don't_ anymore. So we _can't_. As it is, this place hardly has the power amperage available to show you how to upgrade your existing system-"

"That's why we need the crystals. It requires less-"

"How very astute an observation, however, you people still have to learn to crawl before you can run. Once you get the difference between the dinosaur of a system you have now, and the lean machines I can build in my sleep, only _then_ can we start with the _theory_ of adding crystal data," Rodney insisted. He paused, rolled his eyes at the ceiling, and then tried again. " _God_ , you don’t even know what a dinosaur _is_. Look... Your designs are sixty years behind where I came from, which is, frankly, annoying in ways you can't comprehend, until you experience it yourself, because you don't know what is _actually_ possible yet."

"Neither do you-"

"No, I _don't_ , and I _can't_ until I get the team I'm working with caught up to the _modern century_!"

It was as close to yelling at another human as Rodney had gotten in actual weeks and he stopped the frustrated rant to stare back at Ladon, fear stepping back in to force caution. He muttered an apology and went to sit down, putting distance between himself and the annoying Genii.

"Look. The point is. These are the parts we have. It took almost a month to get these done," Rodney said, waving toward the table. "If you want something more useful than disconnected theories, _this_ is where you start. Whether you people like it or not."

Ladon stared at him, the first signs or irritation sneaking through on the man's until then patient face. "This is not what Chief Cowen said you had agreed to."

Rodney sagged in the chair. "Maybe Cowen was distracted by the fact that somebody was being _whipped_ in front of us at the time, but I assure you, I agreed to work on _these_ computers, not build a crystal data array from absolute scratch. I told you, I _don't know_ _how_ yet."

Ladon shook his head and grabbed his own notebook off the counter behind him. Then he headed for the door. "Stay here. I have to talk to Chief Cowen."

Rodney opted not to argue and sank forward to pound his head on the desktop in front of him. He wasn't even the source of the fuckup this time, but he knew it was going to hit John. He _knew_ it. 

The room had gone silent for nearly a minute before the door opened again. Rodney didn't bother to look up because if it was important, someone would say something. The door shut and then someone said, quietly, "Dr. McKay?"

The voice was familiar but out of place and so Rodney didn't recognize it. He looked up, confused, and saw a man in a Genii uniform, complete with the stupid hat, standing at the door.

"Wait-" Rodney managed. "Major-"

"Lorne, yep." The man smiled. He checked the hall through the window on the door before moving over to where Rodney sat. "Not a lot of time, here, so. Can you get yourself and the Colonel to the surface?"

Rodney stared at him, jaw hanging open. "Well... I mean. Not from here... I don't even know which way is _up_ in this place."

"We can't get a team in here easy. There's a bounty out on anyone with the ATA and we don't want to hand them the keys to the city like that if we get busted." Lorne held up a small device that looked like a button. "But if you can get to the surface and hit this, the Daedalus is in orbit and can get you out."

Rodney snatched it out of his hand. "What about John?"

Lorne shook his head. "I knew where you would be. I don't know where they buried him."

"Well I do! Just... Be my guard. Nobody will notice," said Rodney. He shoved his laptop and notebook back in his gear bag and started for the door. Lorne accepted the order and held the door open for him. They made it through two hallways before Rodney realized there was no one else. At all. And Lorne looked remarkably insufficiently armed for the mission. 

Rodney was accustomed to seeing the Genii uniforms now and he could see where the problems were in what Lorne was wearing. It didn't fit right, for one thing, and the holster at his thigh was not exactly Genii. _Shit_. 

"Are you... Wearing two jackets?" Rodney asked, thinking at the last possible second and keeping his voice down. Lorne nodded.

"Yessir. For the Colonel, in case I found him again," the Major replied. Rodney caught the soldier by the arm and dragged him into the nearest available doorway that didn't look occupied. 

"What-"

"The bounty screwed up the only plan of attack we had. And I knew I could be around Cowen's men unnoticed, I was here for _days_ last week, but Weir didn't want to risk anyone. So they're on the Daedalus discussing options and I'm here," said Lorne. "I am technically AWOL, Dr. McKay. Colonel Caldwell and Dr. Weir agreed we needed more time. I... Didn't think you had it."

"Give me the jacket then," Rodney said, dropping the gear backpack off his shoulder. "If I can see the difference, somebody else will."

And the jacket was quickly folded and stashed in the pack and Rodney tried to fix the stupid Genii uniform to keep Lorne from standing out. There was nothing to be done about the weird holster and Rodney had to make himself ignore it. He would just stand in front of it if they found themselves cornered. 

Then, figuring it was as good as could be managed, he started to lead the way back into the hall but came up short when he realized the problem. The door.

"You don't have keys," he said, looking back to Lorne. The Major shook his head.

"Nosir. I thought you had them? Kolya asked you for them-"

Rodney blinked at him and wanted to ask how he knew about that, but there wasn't time. He just shook his head.

"No, that was just one key. Not the door." There was a long list of blue-fire oaths that came to mind then, very loudly cluttering out anything more useful. He looked back to Lorne and wanted to be angry. It wouldn't do any good, though. And he was running out of time to get back now that the hoped-for escape was derailed. Rodney shook his head. He reached out and stole the hat from Lorne. It got shoved in the bag with the folded up uniform jacket. Then Rodney shouldered the pack and let himself out into the hall. 

"Get out of here. Don't get caught. I'll figure something out," he said, head in the doorway. Then he shut the Major inside and headed back for the lab. He could get back before Ladon was done tattling. 

Or at least that had been the goal. Rodney got to the door and saw it closing, which meant he was late. He sighed and pushed through, at least slightly smug about the fact that the door smacked Ladon in the shoulder as he shoved his way inside. He muttered the obligatory apology and headed back to his chair.

"Where did you go?" demanded a growly Cowen.

"I was going to go to my room but I was halfway there before I realized I don't have a key to get in the door," Rodney said, complaint clear. If he told the truth about it, he could manage a lie. "So that was a waste."

Cowen hadn't been expecting the honest answer. He looked to Ladon. "You left him here without a guard?"

"There was a guard," Ladon replied. And the man thought he was telling the truth. Rodney pointed back to the door.

"Well, there wasn't. A guard would have had a _key_ and I would be _napping_ by now," he returned. Ladon went to check and then was on the bulky radio, ordering that someone report for their missed duty.

Cowen seemed amused by it. Rodney sat in his chair and slouched, his brain distracted and busy on the signaling device in his pocket. He had to get them off his back and get John to the surface. Somehow.

"So what do you intend to do about the computer problem?" Cowen asked, arms crossed.

Oh. Right. And there was _that_ bullshit. Like Rodney didn't have enough to figure out. He sighed and looked up at the Chief, resigned.

"I can either see how far I can get on these computers, with the parts we have, and the design I know. Or we scrap all of this and I spend my valuable time doing nothing except attempt to reverse engineer a piece of technology that I have no examples of, based only off months-old memory. And then _you_ get pissed off at the lack of progress, and Sheppard spends another week in the infirmary, and you eventually realize that without access to actual Lantean tech, what you are asking for is impossible. But by then, you've half-killed the whipping boy _again_ and all you're left with is still me, who _still_ won't know how to make the thing you want."

Cowen stared at him throughout the ramble, one eyebrow raised, as Ladon's jaw hit his chest from surprise. Rodney just waited them out. He knew the game better than they did at this point. And he knew if he waited long enough, the bad guys would come to the conclusion he gave them, pretend it was their idea, and he would be set back on the course he wanted to take. 

"Fine," Cowen said finally. He pointed to the boxes of parts around them. "Get these built. We will reassess the crystal integration later."

Somehow Rodney contained the eye-roll and just nodded. He could put together a computer in his sleep, so Ladon could keep up, and Rodney would use the mental-downtime to figure out how to get himself and Sheppard to the surface.

* * *


	15. Chapter 15

As promised, John stuck to pacing around the room rather than any useful exercise. Boredom and stir-crazy head-noise wasn't fun, but neither was losing blood. Mostly he slept. He was dozing when the keys rattled in the door, and Rodney seemed very loud when he was let inside. Instead of the backpack going in it's new-usual spot, Rodney dropped it on the foot of the bed. 

"You're awake, right? Tell me you're awake," said McKay. John blinked at him and pushed himself up. He scooted down to the end of the bed, curious as Rodney started fussing with the pack.

"What's got you riled up?" he asked, still drowsy. Rodney dug into the bag and brought something out, plopping it on John's head. It was a stiff brimmed hat and John left it there, staring up at him under it. "What, they send home swag now?"

"No, I think Lorne stole it, actually," replied Rodney and suddenly John was awake and paying attention. He pulled the hat off of his head to look at it. 

"Shit, McKay... If they find these in here-" John went quiet as Rodney dropped the bag toward him. He scooped up the bag that had been relegated as their clothes bag and shoved the hat down at the bottom of it. Something brownish-green followed and Rodney then started ordering John around, "Up! Up!"

They ended up in the bathroom, with the bag, and Rodney pulled out the Genii uniform jacket. "Try it," he said.

"Okay, so _explain_ it," John replied. He still shrugged carefully into the uniform coat, wrinkling his nose at the smell on the wool. "Oh yeah. _Definitely_ stole it."

"Lorne said he was here last week, found us then,” Rodney began, but John stopped him.

“He _what_?”

“He was here, last week...” 

John stared at him, jaw slack. Then he shook his head, mentally kicking himself. “The kid with the Old Spice. He was _right there_!”

“Huh?” Rodney asked. Because, admittedly, it sounded a little crazy. John shook his head and waved it off, and Rodney found his focus again.

“As I was saying. The Major came back today to get us these. They were trying to figure out how to get to us. But they ran out of options. Caldwell has the Daedalus in orbit, and if we can get to the surface, we're home free," Rodney rushed out, keeping quiet as he tugged on the jacket to make it lay flat instead of wrinkled. John tried to button it but McKay swatted his hands out of the way since he was already there and apparently in a hurry about it. John frowned at his focus.

"This is great and everything, but we don't know how to get up there. And, you know, the whole locked-from-the-outside door-problem," he pointed out. Rodney nodded. 

"But there's no sense in keeping this anywhere it can be found if it doesn't fit enough to fake it," Rodney pointed out. "They'll kill you for this."

"Oh, well, at least someone _else_ noticed that," John replied. It was a stupidly warm coat, though, and John didn't want to take it off now that he was wrapped in it.

"Either I figure out the _keys_ issue, or I figure out something else," said Rodney. "The point is... We have options."

"We have a _jacket_..." John quieted the correction as Rodney pulled out a small disk and handed it to him. 

"We have people who know where we are and we have a ride home. We just have to meet them halfway," said Rodney. John nodded.

"After getting out of a locked room and a rat maze that either leads up or to an unstable nuclear power station," he said. Rodney tugged intently in the jacket lapel as he stared back at him.

"Exactly," he said. " _Now_ apply positive thinking. And get out of the jacket before someone sees you in it."

"We're in the bathroom, Rodney..."

"I don't intend to stay in here," came the reply. John sighed and managed to keep his opinion to himself about it. Then he handed the jacket back and Rodney took it in to bury under the bed's mattress. That was one way to keep it pressed, but it would do nothing for the smell.

"Now I'm cold again," John grumbled as he dropped back on the bed. Rodney shoved the blanket at him.

"No," was all Rodney had to say about it. John let Rodney stay in his distracted grumpy panic and stretched back out on the bed. There was nothing he could do about it and McKay was going to worry about it enough for the both of them. For the moment, until they found out whether or not Elizabeth was going to manage to buy off the Genii with the medical assist, there was a perception of safety that John was trying to make himself hold on to. With it, he could try to make sense of his brain again during the twelve hour days of doing nothing but stare at the walls. He was at least good at adapting to changes because he was looking forward to _anything_ that wasn't four walls and a bathroom. But Sheppard didn't need to interfere in whatever Rodney and Lorne had put together.

"You're _sure_ you saw Lorne, right?" he asked, just to make certain Rodney wasn't the one who had snapped.

"What- _yes_ , I'm sure. We made it halfway back here before we realized neither of us had the key to get in the door," Rodney complained. "He was here against orders, anyway, so I sent him back. Maybe they'll let you call again, to make sure Elizabeth is going to send things..."

John shrugged it off. "Not if Cowen’s smart. It would be admitting we're here and know the deal she already made, and he's still trying to come out of this with his hands clean. Just in case Atlantis has friends."

"Atlantis _does_ have friends," said Rodney. John fought a yawn by nodding into his pillow.

"And some of them are Genii resources, too," he said. "Wouldn't look great if it got around that they picked off two Atlantis officers while they were _allied_. Kolya still fucked up. Until Weir breaks the alliance, Cowen can't admit to anybody we're here. And if she doesn't, _he_ has to, if he wants his _war_..."

"Which still could chase off Genii allies." Rodney stared down at him from where he sat on the bed edge nearest the door. "So... politics."

"Politics."

"Atlantis doesn't have the manpower for war with the Genii," Rodney said.

"That would be why Elizabeth has to fork over the medicines, and can't just come get us, directly, yes," said John. "We don't have the guys. And the Daedalus could do some damage, maybe, but it would take _us_ out, too."

"It's... Creepy how easily you can justify all this," said Rodney then. "It's not _okay_ just because it's tactical."

"Didn't say it was. Just... That there's more to it than just sending in the troops, is all. If you give me the choice between dying in this hole or putting _everyone_ in Atlantis at risk, I'll stay where I am," replied John. And Rodney caught his hand and sprawled out, using the back of John's legs as a pillow.

"Yeah, I know," he said, and Sheppard believed him on that. 

Dinner was delivered not long later, and John was stretched out and asleep before the empty bowls were retrieved. He woke up for a minute when Rodney went to bed, muttered an apology for sleeping, and Rodney just dragged the blanket over him and curled up over his side.

"If it means you're getting better, sleep," he said. So John did. And that was how the next two days went. 

The day Elizabeth was supposed to turn over the medicines, however, they were woken early and dragged out. The guards actually entered the room, and two of them moved in so far as to haul Sheppard off the bed at gunpoint. This was _not_ their usual. John stared, wide-eyed, as Kolya got in Rodney's face across the room. He hadn’t hardly raised his voice at Rodney in weeks, and suddenly he was in full intimidation mode.

"What did you do?" he asked, in the disturbingly calm voice that was very, very angry. Rodney stared back, jaw slack as he tried to figure out the correct answer.

"I was _asleep_! I didn't _do_ anything!" he managed. Kolya shoved him. 

"Get dressed. Get your gear. _Now_!" 

Rodney found his clothes and then tossed John's shirt at him. John was on his knees on the other side of the bed, with a handgun and a rifle both aimed at him, so he looked carefully to Kolya for permission before grabbing the shirt. Kolya allowed it, and picked up the handcuffs off the floor at his feet and threw them at John, with a " _You, too."_

Somehow John managed to find his worthless boots, get his shirt on, and get the cuffs on his wrists, all without moving from the spot he had been put, and he waited until the soldiers grabbed his arm to chance leaving it. He stumbled on his way out the door, because cold concrete floors were not friendly on the knees, but he kept up as Kolya led them through the corridors. Up ahead, Rodney was still trying to wake up, from the sound of his voice, but he fought with his backpack and kept pressing Kolya for answers. _What happened, where are we going, what do I need to do_... And Kolya dragged him along rather than answer. 

They ended up at what looked like a lab, with a dozen people shouting at each other from various different stations. Ladon was there, with Cowen off to the side demanding an update, and Rodney started pulling his laptop out of the pack as he caught enough of the noise to piece together his own answers. Something to do with the reactor. _Well, shit._ Rodney's voice started adding to the yelling and no one seemed to mind. 

Kolya took over and John was moved to an out of the way spot, away from the door, and the guards were left in the hall. The Commander kept a vice grip on John's arm just above his elbow and kept him standing close. It was annoying, but the noise in the room kept the buzz of panic away. John had gotten used to not being around the man, so there was a learning curve to tolerating the invaded space again. He had, frankly, gotten used to not being around _anyone_ , and he probably looked like an idiot, staring around wide-eyed at all the humans in Genii lab coats all congregated in one area.

Nuclear science wasn't Sheppard's thing, but from what he could piece together, amidst the yelling, the reactor wasn't mixing right and the system was overheating.

"What the _hell_ did you morons do?" Rodney demanded. "I've been gone _four days_!"

It took fifteen minutes for someone to say the word "evacuate" and by then, John was tuned in on Rodney more than anyone else. Rodney wasn't in panic-mode. John had seen Rodney fight technology for the fate of himself and his city before, and _that_ Rodney was panicked, fast and sharp-edged, and a blur to watch. _This_ Rodney was missing his coffee and yelling at people and just angry in general. He _looked_ panicked, he played the part, but this wasn't Rodney in a panic. 

McKay had been _expecting_ it.

Cowen wanted to know the cause of the problem and Rodney rattled off a half dozen natural, accidental potential causes, and another handful that were more human-error.

"The point being, until this whole thing cools down, we won't _know_ , and we can't stay here to wait it out. Everyone between us and the reactor is going to start growing a second head if they aren't evacuated. We've got the system stabilized now but it's going to take a week to cool down, at _least_ ," Rodney said, dead serious. Cowen didn't like it.

"How do you know?" he asked. Rodney marched across the room to pull his MacGyvered Geiger counter off a shelf and made a show of connecting the speaker. It started screeching its staticky, scratchy, beeping and the scientists in the room all went silent. 

The Genii Chief looked pained as he gave the order to begin evacuations, while the scientists all looked relieved as they scrambled for the door. Rodney stayed where he was, looking between Cowen and Kolya rather than just assume he was free to go with the others. John was the one in handcuffs, but Rodney was fairly well leashed in, too. At a nod from Cowen, Rodney packed his laptop away again and was ready to leave. 

Twenty minutes later, John had a bruise that was threatening to become permanent from Kolya's hand on his arm as they made their way to the surface. There were many little trap doors around the city, as it turned out, not just the one that Rodney and John had found on their first visit with the Genii. Cowen had one that led out of his office directly, and they spent most of their time just trying to cut through the panicked crowds to get to his private access-hatch. 

It let out into his home topside and John was shoved into a corner again, out of the way and back on his knees. Cowen disappeared to go handle the trials of leadership when an entire population was about to be forcefully merged with a small community that didn't have the room. Kolya had resumed his babysitting duties, along with three soldiers.

Rodney had gotten them at least a week on the surface, and now, because Kolya was paranoid, they were stuck anyway; John couldn't get into the pocket on his shirt to activate the tiny beacon that was supposed to let the Daedalus know to look for their transmitters. So he knelt in the corner, glaring at the floor, as Rodney paced a few feet away, and kept glancing at him like John was the contraband in his pocket. John's knees were killing him. 

An hour later, Cowen and Ladon returned. Once Cowen was in the room and not looking like he was about to leave again, Sheppard risked Kolya's annoyance and tried to sit down again, a project which had so far been met with open-handed smacks to correct it. Kolya was more careful with Cowen around and just dragged him back up with a hand under the bad shoulder.

"Can I arrange to move them now? There are too many people up here," Kolya said. Cowen sighed and nodded.

"Might as well. There's nothing he can do up here. And you said it will be unsafe for a full week?" Cowen asked, looking to Rodney. The scientist looked back at him, nodded cautiously.

"At least. It would be smarter to let it sit empty longer. But with your usual exposure rates, at least a week," he said. "But while I am up here, I could start working on alternative power sources for the people up here... Since you don't have the instructions to give them anymore."

And Cowen and Ladon bought it, hook, line, and sinker. John kept his attention on the floor so he wouldn't smile about it. It was still early in the day and Cowen saw no reason Rodney shouldn't start working toward the new power supply while he still had daylight. Rodney and his backpack were escorted out by Ladon to begin the project while John remained, stuck in his corner.

"And Sheppard?" Kolya asked Cowen. John looked up at that, realizing the discussion of relocating the prisoners wasn't over with yet.

"I'm good here. We agreed, I stay with Rodney," he said, helpfully reminding the Chief of his arrangement. Cowen nodded but pointed around the room.

"I think it goes without saying, the circumstances have changed, Sheppard. And despite what you may choose to believe, I'm not an idiot. Anywhere on the surface is a security risk for you and Dr. McKay. We will have to mitigate that how we can," replied Cowen. He met Kolya's eager stare and nodded. "Let's keep Sheppard off-site for now. He will come back when Dr. McKay has cleared the city as safe to return, Commander. I expect him returned in the condition he is in now. So please control your temper."

Cowen wouldn't be overly heartbroken if John was returned with a busted face and broken bones, but he had made the perfunctory request, just to cover his own ass. Kolya hardly acknowledged it and hauled John up to his feet, again picking on the bad shoulder. John kept his opinions to himself, though, because it wasn't promising to be a fun week suddenly. He still couldn't get to the beacon in his pocket. 

Braced as he was to be dragged from the room, John was surprised when Kolya just stood there and messed around in the pocket of his long coat like anyone from Atlantis would fish around in their pockets for their radio or comms headset. He frowned at the Genii Commander and eyed him from the side, tried to ease his shoulder out of the man's grasp. John went still when Kolya pulled out something that looked like a small metal wand, and it had buttons on it, so it was some kind of tech, not a tiny baton or club.

"What's that?" he asked, distrustful.

"Shut up," replied Kolya. There was a bright light around the both of them then, that seemed awfully familiar. It wasn’t just Sheppard caught in the beam and it was in direct response to something Kolya had triggered. John had been so close to going home, until _this_. And John decided he really hated his luck; he was starting to take this shit personal.

* * *

The only basic materials they had on the surface that could be remotely useful were stacks of wood that could be turned into either wind or hydropower sources. But Rodney was not a carpenter, which meant he would have to diagram everything out, and then supervise the construction once the material cutting and shaping was done. With all the mess from the evacuation, it took them _two hours_ to discover this very glaring problem. 

And Rodney hadn't had breakfast yet. He was cranky and wanted to yell at idiots and he couldn't. He wanted to be sitting with John in the sun and eating breakfast, and that couldn't happen if John was getting his ass kicked because Rodney had yelled at a bunch of woodworkers. But he did convince Ladon that it had been eighteen hours since his last meal, so he was given the reprieve of returning to the Chief's home to find some form of brunch. Rodney went immediately to where he had left John, only to find the room empty.

"Where's Sheppard?" he asked, walking back to where Ladon was.

"Kolya relocated him to make sure there's no trouble," said Cowen. The Chief stood in the doorway, completely unconcerned as Rodney gaped at him like a fish.

"What do you mean, _relocated_?" Rodney replied, anger raising the volume with each word. He would have gone on longer, but the room around him was suddenly very bright, seemingly right in front of his face. Like a transport beam. Like the _Daedalus_. Rodney smiled and gave a small wave as he and his backpack disappeared.

The small Genii country-home was replaced with the much more familiar, much more welcome command deck of the Daedalus. Rodney dropped his backpack and looked around, wide-eyed at the familiar _everything_ he had seriously begun to doubt he would ever see again in his life. 

He blinked when John wasn't in the room among the faces staring at him in his Genii clothes and Atlantis jacket.

"Where's John?" he asked. He very specifically needed to kiss him. Very badly. The need to have his hands on the man moved in like an ache in his chest.

But no one heard him, because that was when Elizabeth started talking, and Teyla started talking, and Caldwell started talking. Elizabeth tackled him in an albeit careful hug and Teyla caught his hand. Rodney stared at them both, seeing faces he had nearly forgotten. And then there was Ronon towering behind them, clapping him on the shoulder.

And then Caldwell, asking why they couldn't find Sheppard nearly knocked Rodney to the floor of the command deck right on his ass.

"What?" he asked, dumb.

"The beacon activated, which is how we knew to look for you. But the location of the beacon puts it somewhere in the middle of space, which we're assuming means he's on the Traveler ship. If it's there, it's cloaked. And there's no sign of Sheppard's transmitter on our sensors," Caldwell said. 

Rodney had a hold of Teyla's hand, and Ronon had his shoulder, and he _still_ felt himself waver. "Oh _shit_."

"What, Rodney?" Elizabeth pressed. 

"I had to build a jammer... I didn't know the frequency of the transmitters so I was just guessing! I thought it would only mess with the TVs," he said. "I thought he broke it. Shit. I need... I need to sit down. I need food, does anyone have food?"

Absolutely nothing productive or useful was accomplished over the next ten minutes as the onboard physician looked Rodney over and food was shoved at him. The medical staff talked him into as much of a decontamination shower as the ship was capable of, but Rodney refused to waste more time than he had to. He was given clean clothes and it was good enough to let him concentrate again without worrying about making everyone else sick. 

Against the doctors' orders, Rodney went back to the command deck and started messing with the communications array. There was no easy way to get around the jammer doing it's damn job, short of waiting for them to put John back on the surface. But he was with Kolya. And once Kolya found out that Rodney had disappeared right in front of Cowen they would just kill him. 

"What are you doing to my ship?" Caldwell asked over his shoulder, but made no move to stop him.

"Jamming communications from the ground. The _other ship_ can't know I'm gone until we can get Sheppard off of it," Rodney told him. It wasn't an order, it was a fact, no different from when he bullied the Genii into doing what he wanted, and he didn't raise his voice. He just did the work whether anyone wanted him to or not. “Also, you should stay back. A good distance.”

Elizabeth didn't argue, but she ignorantly tried to calm him down. "John Sheppard is still the ranking military officer on Atlantis and Cowen wouldn't-"

"He's not with Cowen, he's with Kolya. And Kolya would have killed him two months ago if he could have," Rodney interrupted. "And without me there, he will. So we need to get him back. _Now_."

"Some of the Travelers' ships are shielded against weapons. Can the transporter make it through them?" Ronon asked. Caldwell shook his head.

"We have never encountered these people before, we don't know what their ships are capable of," the Colonel replied.

"Some of them are Lantean," Ronon said, looking to Rodney. "I've been inside some of these ships. They look like Atlantis. Well, like the parts of Atlantis where you had to hook up to your technology, anyway."

Rodney stared, jaw slack and eyes wide. "They're Lantean?"

"The people aren't. The _ships_ are," Ronon insisted.

"Who are these people?" Rodney wanted to know suddenly. Ronon held up the weapon from his holster and gave it a spin in his hand.

"Travelers. Wraith-dodgers. Scavengers. Some Travelers helped me when I was a Runner. Now, one of 'em is helping these guys," he said. Rodney stared at the weapon he had somewhere in the back of his mind decided to hate weeks ago.

"Rodney," Teyla chimed in, looking like something had hurt her. Rodney frowned over at her in question. She pointed at the weapon in Ronon's hand. "Aiden Ford is working with Kolya. They have put a bounty out for anyone with the ATA gene from the Atlantis expedition. As near as we can determine, they have been working together for a few months." 

Rodney stared at her, jaw slack. He couldn't quite process that. Something about it failed mid-download. 

"Don't tell John that," was all he could manage. 

"If Sheppard's on Ford's ship, I'm pretty sure he already knows," Ronon offered. Rodney shook his head.

"John'll kill him for this," he said. He pulled himself coldly away from the betrayal and turned to Caldwell. "When we get him back, we can kill everyone on the ship, for all I care. But I need data, Colonel. I assume I'm not cleared for my usual position clearances with Atlantis at the moment but I need access to the Daedalus computers to get the Lt. Colonel back. And if that's acceptable-"

"You have it," Colonel Caldwell replied. He and Elizabeth both looked shocked but Rodney didn't have time to figure them out. He needed their sensor data on the Travelers' ship and the extent of the Lantean technical capacity. Caldwell tapped one of the comms officers on the shoulder to chase them out of their chair and waved Rodney toward it. He muttered his thanks and scooped up his laptop computer to connect to the officer's abandoned terminal instead.

* * *

Wherever it was they ended up, John was staring at walls that looked strikingly like Atlantis, but smaller. The brief thought that somehow Kolya had magicked them home to his city was terrifying for multiple reasons, to say nothing of being completely impossible. He blinked at the familiar structure and color and then stared down at the floor under his feet, finding it just the same as he expected it would be. He had been on a ship _like_ this before.

"How the hell-" he began, but Kolya started them walking out of the empty room to a hallway just outside. He didn't look entirely comfortable with where he was, and John wondered if the man even knew his way around. The sound of footsteps echoed in one direction and Kolya started for it, his grip a little looser for his apparent confusion. John followed after, curious more than anything. They couldn't be in Atlantis; there was no way any transporter could get them to separate planets without a ship midway. And even then, that ship would have to have some _impressive_ range on their tech.

Sheppard came up short as they rounded a corner and saw three men walking their way. He noticed two things right off that made him stop in his tracks, Kolya already on ignore. The first was that each of the three carried beefed-up versions of Ronon's magnum. And all of them were active and ready to fire.

But more than that, one of the men was none other than Aiden Ford. The young man looked healthy and whole, aside from the noticeable leftovers from his cruel tussle with the Wraith that had attacked Atlantis nearly a year earlier. And he was very well armed, not that he really needed it anymore with the boost the enzyme gave him. Aiden had somehow escaped the Wraith ship John had last seen him on some months earlier, and he didn't look any the worse for it. Ford could survive anything apparently, and now he was staring at Sheppard like he didn't recognize him, which held a certain irony to it, John thought.

Kolya realized John had stopped moving and he too stopped to wait for the men to meet them. He looked far too smug and proud of himself. John glanced between the Genii devil and his own former second in command.

"Oh come on," he said, quiet, as he started putting pieces together. "No way, Aiden. No."

The name had slipped out unconsciously, and Ford straightened up, a bitter tightening to the corners of his mouth. "Good to see you again, Colonel."

And John still flinched, standing too close to Kolya all day so far to not expect a correction for the title. But Ford wasn't McKay, and Kolya just smiled at the reaction. Ford noticed and it changed his scowl, but John knew better than to expect help from that corner. He dropped his eyes to the floor and clenched his jaw, fighting the angry panic through careful breathing, the only control he had over anything at the moment.

"Commander Kolya," the man with Ford greeted. Cordial. _All friends here. Great_.

"Captain Tuaron. We'll need use of your brig for the week," Kolya said. That was a certain kind of relief. It was no guarantee of a meal, maybe, but at least nothing would happen behind bars. And John knew his way around the brig at Atlantis, so he could fake it on a ship that looked like her. He must have been thinking too loud because Ford was looking at him again.

The brig _happened_ to be available and John was passed off to an escort of Ford and the other grunt Captain Tuaron had brought to meet them. John kept himself in line and dodged any efforts to guide him by touch like Kolya preferred to. He just kept behind the men they followed, only half listening to Kolya brief Tuaron about the situation down on the surface, hardly avoiding the fact that the interaction meant the _friend_ walking beside him had been involved in setting John up for the past few months of hell. 

There was no coincidence to the fact that Kolya could just push a button and remove the problem of John Sheppard. The gun McKay hadn't been able to fix weeks earlier suddenly made sense. Kolya knowing about the transmitters, and the communication capability of the laptops, all added up to the picture around him now. Whether Ford knew how things would go down, or whether he just provided the information in case it was useful to some less violent end, it still had to have been provided by the AWOL lieutenant.

Sheppard was used to dealing with anger and hurt. But he had suddenly found a new depth to his understanding of it. And there was nothing he could do about it now, anyway. He just kept his head down and the attitude off his face if Kolya looked back. 

"Where am I?" John asked, quiet and as outwardly calm as he could manage. Ford owed him that much and Kolya could stuff any problems he had with John talking to the locals.

"A Traveler ship," said Ford. "The Revenant, as it happens. They patched together an Aurora-class cruiser, but they don't have everything active yet. No ATA."

John let out a soft, unamused laugh. "Planned this to the letter, huh?"

Ford watched him again before he shook his head. "Actually, no."

"You get _one shot_ at storytime," John muttered, because he was hurting and an idiot. "That's it."

"Shut up, Sheppard," came Kolya's voice, and John looked up to see Kolya and their host waiting for them a few yards ahead. 

"Just catching up on old times," John replied, aiming for aloof. He failed hard when the " _sir_ ," slipped out at the end because Kolya looked like he was going to grab for him. The subtle deference stalled him and the Genii Commander waved them toward the doors that led to the brig. John went where he was told and was soon locked snug behind the bright horizontal bars of the buzzy Lantean designed jail cell. Captain Tuaron stared, jaw slack, at the jail cell that welcomed John with blue lights all around. Ford cleared his throat politely.

"Colonel Sheppard carries the ATA gene, Captain. The longer he's on the ship, the more systems we'll have access to," Ford said. Kolya didn't seem to appreciate the information being handed out any more than John did.

"I'm still expected back on the surface," said Sheppard. "Otherwise Rodney will figure out how to blow their reactor next week."

"Dr. McKay is on the surface?" Ford asked. John scoffed.

"Of course he is. What the hell _else_ do you think the Genii need _me_ alive for?" he replied. He was behind bars, unnaturally bright ones that Kolya was smart enough not to touch, so John could say what he wanted. "We've been with this bastard nearly three months now, Ford. Or did you miss that memo?"

"Dr. McKay has been helping to improve the city’s nuclear power capacity, with the ultimate goal of nuclear weapons to use against the Wraith," Kolya explained, his tone forced tolerance because of his hosts. “Chief Cowen’s scientists caused a... Problem with the reactor, when Dr. McKay was working on another project this last week, and he repaired it. For now he's working on establishing a power grid at the evacuation site. He should be kept busy and is not the flight risk that Sheppard is." 

That struck John as hilarious and he openly laughed but didn't explain when Ford asked. They left it alone, but Ford was watching John, wary behind an unreadable mask. The kid had at least gotten better at keeping what he was thinking off his face.

"Dr. McKay also has an active ATA gene," Aiden pointed out to his new boss, and John started laughing again. He backed off a few steps to the nice padded bench that served as a bed in the jail cell; the Lanteans were much nicer to their prisoners than the Genii, even when their ships were stolen a few hundred years later. And John wasn't going anywhere, any time soon, unless Kolya figured his way around working the cell doors. 

"I think there needs to be a renegotiation of terms, Commander," said Tuaron, and John dropped behind a mask of his own. He knew how to work with people who wanted the gene, he got plenty of that from even his own people, and it was guaranteed easier than dealing with Kolya. But it wasn't happening without Rodney. Likewise, the Genii's plans for Rodney weren't happening as they wanted them to without John, so Kolya had put himself in a neat little corner. And John was content to let him sweat his way out of it. He would see who had the better deal to offer on the other side.

"Captain, I understand your situation with the ATA, but, as Sheppard so helpfully pointed out, Dr. McKay becomes much less cooperative without incentive," said Kolya. "And we can't just hand that incentive over to someone on a spaceship and expect to keep our genius accomplishing what we need him to do underground."

"While we're in orbit you can," said Tuaron. "As I imagine we could use the assistance of an ATA carrying genius as well."

"Dr. McKay was responsible for merging the Milky Way technology with the computers in Atlantis," Ford offered up, tone firm. John kept his opinion to himself, but Ford almost sounded angry. 

"Which is then likely something we could use to get around the problems we have with our lack of the required gene for the operation of this ship," said Tuaron. He raised a blond eyebrow as he looked from John back to Kolya. "And you were very keen on getting parts of this ship to Dr. McKay so he could reverse engineer the technology. I see very little reason why he should not have access to the ship itself, rather than pieces." 

Kolya laughed at that. "Are you suggesting the Genii split the custody of our scientist?"

Rodney wasn't _the Genii's_ scientist. John clenched his jaw but didn't say anything. His glare slipped from the wall to Kolya though, and then to Ford. The former lieutenant noticed but he dodged, moving to the door to encourage the negotiations be handled somewhere else.

"Captain? Colonel Sheppard shouldn't be a part of this conversation," Ford said. A grim smile tugged at John's lips, not amused. Kolya had a slight smile of his own. 

"He forfeited his rank months ago, Lieutenant," Kolya said. "He answers to Sheppard and that's good enough."

"Due respect, Commander Kolya, but I know him better than you do," said Ford, shaking his head. "And I don't care what you call him. Any business you want completed, you don't discuss around him." 

"I doubt you know him as well as you think you do," said Kolya, smug as he glanced over at John. But John kept himself slouched back against the wall, stared impassively out at the bastard as he turned and left the brig to follow Tuaron out. Ford stayed where he was, watching John and blocking the door, then he looked to his other crewmate. Aiden pointed at John and then at the door. 

"Stay here. Watch him. No one gets near him except myself or the Captain, understood?"

"Yessir, Lt. Ford," said the grunt. And he camped out in the doorway on watch. John looked up at the man and then around at the rest of the brig. He tried to ask the ship to turn the lights off, but the blue buzz around the bars that surrounded him just flashed, like they could bounce the thoughts back at him. That was an interesting feature, but not all that distracting. 

"Hey, kid, you wanna hit the lights? I could use a nap if I'm not gonna get breakfast," John said. The Traveler guard frowned at him but didn't move to help out, so John gave up. He dropped down to the bench, though, and ignored the complaint from his back as he stared at the ceiling. 

It felt like hours before the guard was called off and the doors finally slid closed. Nobody came back to visit, either. It was just John and the brig again. And it was a much nicer brig. John rolled into his side, back to the door without fear of being snuck up on for once, and he fished the beacon button out of the pocket on his shirt. He pressed it once and then held his breath, hoping it didn't start screaming or blinking or some equally as bad attention-drawing thing. 

Nothing happened. At all. It was silent and dark and John had no idea if it actually worked. He thumped his head against the weak built-in pillow on the bench. He was in space and not on the surface, so who the hell knew if the Daedalus would pick it up as anything other than space noise. 

The tension-slash-starvation headache settled in behind John's eyes then and he rolled to his back again so he could cover his face with his arm and try to get some sleep. He thought about ditching the cuffs, but he didn't want to lose the key yet if he got busted for it. So he just made-do, like usual, and tried to sleep it off.

* * *


	16. Chapter 16

The nap was short, interrupted by none other than Aiden Ford. Whether he was following orders or kissing up, John wasn't sure, but the man brought food and that was enough to wake up for. John met him at the gate and took the plate through the bars.

"Water?" he asked, because the food looked dry and painful and, starving or not, he knew he was going to regret it. A canteen was helpfully passed to him and John retreated to the bench to eat. Ford stayed where he was, watching him.

"What the hell happened to you?" the kid wanted to know, and John let out a bitter scoff.

"No sense hurting the genius when they can scare him instead," replied John. "What the fuck did _you think_ was going to happen?"

"This isn't my fault," Ford said, a lot too quick to be true. John choked down the weird, dry, bread and beans burrito-sandwich he had been given rather than call bullshit outright.

"From where I live lately, it's sure beginning to look like it," was all he said. 

"I don't live there, so I can tell you you're wrong," replied Ford. John glanced up at him as he downed half the canteen. When he came up for air, he figured he was willing to risk the loss of what was left on his plate if he pushed back a little.

"Kolya knew things about _my team_. Stuff that I can guarandamntee Rodney and I never had a chance to tell him about. He knew about the transmitters. He _believed_ us when we told him we couldn't reprogram them or just dig the damn things out without the tech to know where they were. So he made Rodney build a jammer," said Sheppard. Reminded of it, he set the plate down and pulled the jammer out of the pocket on his shirt, tossed it to the gate for show-and-tell. Since the only person with active ATA in their system was on the inside of the bars, the cell was just four walls with big holes in them, so it slid under easily and snicked up against Ford's boot. Ford stared down at Rodney's handiwork and reluctantly picked it up. 

"They knew we could call out to Atlantis on the laptops. Hell, Kolya even knew about Ronon's gun and used one like it to scare the shit out of McKay. Want me to take a guess where he got _that_? So what _exactly_ did you expect when you shared intel with the guy who tried to steal Atlantis, huh?"

"They needed people with the gene, we needed people with the gene," said Ford. "I expected they would help us get them."

"No, Kolya needed an in with Cowen, and he used Rodney's brain and your people to do it," John returned. He shook his head and tried to force down a few more bites of the food. He was starving and losing his appetite at the same time, and the rehydrated alien MRE was hard enough tack as it was.

"I just told him what to look out for if he found someone with the gene. I didn't know you were there," Ford said. 

"Congratulations," replied John. "You only _accidentally_ participated in the assault and attempted murder of a former ranking officer and the captivity of a civilian. He still wants Atlantis, so that's phase two if you want to toss them a gate code or something..."

"That's not what we were trying to do! We need help with the ship..."

"It was _Kolya_ , Aiden! You don't go to _him_ for help! You know that!"

"Well, I couldn't go to you," replied the lieutenant. John glared at him for that.

"You could. I told you that. I tried -"

"You left me on a Wraith ship," scoffed Aiden.

"You told me to! That enzyme clouded your brain that much, you don't remember? I sure as hell do," John replied. 

"The enzyme is out," Aiden said, tone harsh. "The Travelers took me on, and their doctors knew how to handle the withdrawals. They saved my life."

"That was nice of them. I'm sure Carson'll send them a lovely _thank you_ card," John said. The kid could say the enzyme was out all he wanted, but Sheppard wasn't feeling that benevolent about the last few months of his life to care anymore. He had tried, done everything he could to get Aiden back to Atlantis, and it had all still blown up in his face. And Rodney's. 

John finished off the water in the canteen. "So what's the verdict on me and Rodney? We trading wardens now or later?"

Ford frowned at him. "I don't know. I stayed out of it."

John huffed out an unamused laugh. "Must be nice," he said, only half sarcastic about it. He shook his head as Ford scowled at the wall. John finished off what he could of the food and stood up to return the empty canteen and plate so the kid would just go away. 

"Look. Make sure you tell your boss, if he needs my blood on the inside of my body, which I'm assuming he does if he wants help with the ship, then he should probably be made aware that Kolya will take me out the second he gets a good excuse to. Whatever he agrees to, don't trust him. Once I'm back on the surface, you people won't see me again."

"What makes you say that?" Ford asked, suspicion evident.

"Challenge Kolya too much, he panics, takes it out on me. I'm the bastard that made him look bad. Got him exiled for a bit. He's pretty set on making sure I'm dead at the soonest opportunity," John replied. He passed the plate and canteen through the same way he had received them. "Your boss looking to prolong that end game won't make him happy. And he _won't_ take it out on your boss."

For a few long seconds, Aiden looked almost like himself, the concerned kid that wanted to help but was never confident on just _how_. He still had the same fast reflexes, though, and he caught the chain between John's wrists. He noted the scars under the cuffs and then let go. 

"How long have you been in those?" he asked.

"Since day one," said John. "Except when Rodney negotiated for the key, then I get a few hours off a day. Mostly to sleep."

Ford didn't seem to like the answer much. "Do you need to be in the infirmary?"

John shook his head in a very clear negative. "No. I'm fine right here, just keep Kolya _out_."

Aiden seemed resolved on it and nodded. "Door stays locked, sir."

John had to laugh at that because there was nothing about it that didn't hurt. Ford held up the jammer.

"Do you need this back?" he asked. John shrugged, gauging the young man's priorities.

"It's not _my_ fault if you have to confiscate unknown technology on your ship, Lieutenant," he replied. Ford considered it. 

"We're monitoring a Daedalus-class ship in orbit over the other side of the planet," he said finally. "So the question is, will you stay on my ship, without it?"

"No idea," John replied. "If it makes you feel any better about it, my back got torn to shit and their docs had to stitch me up. For all I know, I don't even _have_ the transmitter anymore."

Ford didn't like that logic very much. But it worked; he didn't give the jammer back. "We can find out. I'll talk to the infirmary."

"Do what you gotta do," was all John said about it. He backed up a step and then turned to resume his post on the bench. 

It was probably a half an hour - and another nap - later that Ford showed up again. This time with two of his Traveler buddies. They got the gate open and waved John out.

"What's going on?" Sheppard asked.

"We've got the equipment to check for the transmitter in the infirmary. Come on," said Ford, and he used his best _'That's an order_ ,' tone for it, too. John clenched his jaw on an oath and complied. 

It was a bit of a walk to the infirmary but John unhappily made it. The room half-lit up when he walked in, including a few familiar-enough looking wall panels and gizmos that John recognized from Carson’s use in the infirmary at Atlantis. But instead of the friendly Scotsman he missed so much, he got introduced to a cranky woman named Leuca, who then promptly wanted his shirt off. John was faced with the choice of losing his shirt and the contents of the pocket by having them show up on a scan if he argued, or just getting it over with. So he lay on his stomach on the infirmary bed where he was told and bunched the shirt around the shackles, the sewn-on leather pouch wrapped in his fist, tucked under his chin.

The new doc had some colorful things to say about the state of his back as she waved some weird, foreign looking sensor wand over it, but nothing at all about any transmitter signals. The bioimage on the computer screen showed no little bits of metal anywhere near his shoulders or spine, where he and Ford both thought the chip would have been found.

"The one we pulled out of Aiden was small, looked like shrapnel," the Travelers' doc explained. "From the scar tissue in the shoulder here, someone went digging. And even then, as deep as some of these stripes went... If it didn't come out on its own, I would guess whoever tended to it found it and took it out. The hard part of getting to it was already done for them. Damn, there's still stitching in your shoulder..."

John buried his face against his crossed arms as he realized one more plan had failed. The absolute insult of possibly having lost the transmitter as his shredded back had bled out that first day in the cells... damn, but that hurt all over. His eyes stung from the proof of it and John knuckled at his face to keep it clean. He didn't argue when Ford's doctor started messing with his shoulder. 

"How long ago was this?" she demanded. John told her, when he trusted his voice again. It was no surprise when she started tugging and snipping at the stitches on the week-old stripes.

"Ford? Where are you?" came the Revenant's Captain's voice over the radio. John glanced over at him, wary of the tone through the squawk-box.

"Infirmary, sir, with Sheppard," Ford replied. The kid was pissed off. Good for him. John was just tired. He startled a minute later when he heard Kolya walk in the room with the Captain and he started trying to sit up.

" _You_ stay where you are," the doctor chided, hand on his back to keep him down. John tried to ignore it, kept moving, but then Kolya was there and adding to it, his hand on John's other shoulder and much less cautious. Sheppard put his face in his arms and stayed down. 

"What is this?" Kolya wanted to know.

"What's it look like? He's a _mess_ , I'm trying to keep it from getting any _worse_ ," the doctor replied. "This here? Infection. What the hell did you do to his shoulder?"

"Old injury. He's not as good as he thinks he is in a knife fight," replied Kolya, not at all concerned with the censure in the woman's tone.

"There wasn't much of a fight about it," muttered John. The hand at his shoulder backhanded into the side of his head and John recoiled, turned his face away. 

"Captain, the tracking chip was already taken out by the Genii doctors," Ford said to his boss, intentionally interrupting. "There's no risk of him being found here."

“Well, that’s lucky, under the circumstances,” Tuaron said. 

Kolya thought that was amusing and he patted John's shoulder, stroked his hair in mock sympathy. He leaned down to speak quietly to John. "Almost like I knew what I was doing, after all, it would seem."

John kept his face turned away and ignored him. Kolya kept him down as the doctor insisted on blood tests, not liking anything at all about the care John had supposedly already received. And apparently Captain Tuaron now had an agreed-upon interest in keeping Sheppard alive, so Kolya was allowing it, but the hand on the back of John's neck was possessive.

John tried to ignore everyone and everything in the room because he didn't want to be anywhere near them. He didn't want the doctor touching him, didn't want Kolya near him at all, and he tried to mentally check out, just like he had when Kolya had him half-drowned in the Genii brig. The only thing that dragged him back was the doctor slathering stuff on his back and shoulders that made them go numb. _Absolutely_ numb. John only realized how bad everything hurt when the pain stopped. He caught himself trying to look over his shoulder at it to make sure his shoulder still existed at all. 

" _He_ stays here," the doctor announced. "That infection is going to be a problem. And a jail cell won't help it."

"It won't hurt it, either," replied Kolya. "This man is dangerous-"

"Maybe he was, but he's not, now," the doctor interrupted. "And I don't care how _your people_ do things, Commander. You may be on Tuaron's ship, but you are in _my_ infirmary. And what I say, goes. So _you_ can see yourself out."

Kolya turned to Tuaron. "We've discussed this, Captain..."

Tuaron nodded. "Yes. But, as she said, I have no jurisdiction over patients. Our arrangements are on hold until Leuca clears him."

With Kolya's hand still wrapped around the back of his neck, John stayed where he was, listening, and carefully not looking over at Ford. For all everything sucked, the kid had known what he was doing when he brought Sheppard to the infirmary. There was no missing that it worked out in Tuaron's favor, though, too. 

John kept his head down and squeezed his eyes shut to make himself close them all out again. He wanted Rodney there. He was too far away for Kolya to start this fight with the Travelers. The bulky teeth of the skeleton key in the pouch on his shirt bit into his chin. At least he still had that. Maybe if Sheppard stayed out of it, Rodney's luck would take over and something would work out. 

* * *

Secure and safe on the Daedalus again, Rodney was incredibly focused. And unnaturally quiet. Teyla lurked nearby and leaned into Ronon's space, too unsettled by what she was witnessing. McKay moved from screen to screen, swearing at himself a few times very quietly as he seemed to stumble between systems. Every few minutes he would announce that he was talking over some function or another, Stargates and databursts and comms and other things that without any context Teyla didn't know what to make of it. And Caldwell would acknowledge it, but otherwise everyone seemed to be pretending that Rodney wasn't there, and staying a “safe distance” away from him while they were at it, all at his request. The Daedalus sensors hadn’t indicated any dangerous levels of radioactivity, but the medical team and Rodney were very clear and vocal about the potential for harm.

Eventually McKay all but demanded Caldwell's attention; though he didn't interrupt the Colonel's conversation with the ship's pilot for it, it was a close thing. Caldwell left his chair to stand behind Rodney and Elizabeth joined him. Teyla could barely still see the laptop screen from the side as Rodney pulled up an image of something that looked like the outline of an Ancestors’ ship.

"Because cloaks are not shields, if you sound-pulse the right frequency, you can record the soundwaves reacting to the obstacles it meets," Rodney informed them. "The cloaks don't absorb the sound, they just interfere. It's not an exact science but it works enough to get you something like this."

He flicked to another image that was, according to Rodney, an Aurora-class ship. With the help of Zelenka back on Atlantis and an open spacegate, it hadn't taken him long to have a map of the known ship type pulled from the Ancient database. And then another image showed the location of the beacon that Major Lorne had delivered to Rodney and that he said he had given to John. 

"The beacon has moved twice. Here," Rodney said, pointing to a zone on the image of the ship, and then quickly to another that lit up under his touch. "And then here. And it has stayed here."

Another tap on the screen changed the image to a layered map of the ship zones that Rodney could manipulate by touch. The two zones from the beacon were still lit on the map. "This location lines up with the brig on the Ancients' design. And the current location of the beacon is roughly in the area of the medical bay. And given John's injuries, and the fact that he's with Kolya without any other Genii supervision right now, I have no problems believing he would be sent to the infirmary."

"Particularly if Lieutenant Ford really is involved in this," offered Elizabeth. "The bounty is for ATA gene holders, and if they need people healthy enough to operate the ships then, well, to be honest, John would not be capable of it from what I saw when you two called back in last week."

"He needs help, Elizabeth, but he's not... Broken. He was getting better when I saw him," Rodney replied. "We just need some way to get a more specific lock on him with sensors. We can't assume the beacon is on his person when it is attached to his shirt."

Caldwell seemed to startle at that. "Wait... Are you suggesting we send someone over there, completely blind?"

Rodney stabbed at the screen. " _This_ isn't blind."

"It's all a guesstimate at best, McKay... Theory doesn't give you coordinates that don't put our men down in the middle of a wall!"

"I _know_ how this technology works, Colonel, and I wouldn't be suggesting it if I wasn't certain it would get results," replied McKay, a shade of the usual fire in the man's voice. 

" _Which_ results, McKay?" Caldwell asked, sober and serious as ever. "A successful extraction with _no_ casualties? Or Sheppard's return as long as _at least_ one person makes it to his location?"

"No! That is _not-_ " Rodney's voice broke off on a cringe and he seemed to brace himself on the desk. Caldwell didn't seem to notice and began pointing at the screen behind him. 

"We all know how small these rooms are on these ships. So you are asking us to assume that this ship really is the type of ship you _theorize_ it is, and then that your locations are accurate on a ship class we have statistically few real world interactions with-"

"Fine, send me and just track me!" Rodney interrupted. "It's my data, my _theories_ , I'll be the one to trust it!"

"No!" Teyla blurted, unconsciously echoing Elizabeth and Ronon both. Ronon stepped around Teyla then, just to get Caldwell's attention off of Rodney, who was looking red-faced and cornered.

"I'll go. Just put me in the Jumper bay and I'll get to him. That's all you need, right?" Ronon said. He pointed at a larger zone on the ship map to get Caldwell to consider other options to Rodney's plan.

"Ronon and I will both go," said Teyla. "And you do not risk any of your teams, but we can still be tracked on the other ship."

" _Or_ we find out better what we're dealing with _first_ ," said Caldwell. 

"He's been there for _hours_! Why haven't you already tried that then?" Rodney wanted to know. "Unless you're going to tell me _that_ reading on the screen isn't the beacon that you were looking for, that _it's not_ the reason you found my signal to pull me off the planet, then we _know_ that is a ship. I pulled the data myself, I trust it. _That_ is a ship-"

" _We_ trust it, so send us," said Ronon. "We're Sheppard's team. If you lose us, you lose him, and it's all the same as if we never got off the planet anyway. Nothing lost."

"Bullshit," muttered Caldwell. The Colonel still didn't like it. 

"Send us to the ship or send us to the brig with Major Lorne," warned Teyla. "As we will arrange it ourselves just as he did."

"Don't you dare," said Elizabeth, but the quiet order was aimed at Caldwell, not any of her staff threatening quiet mutiny. "Colonel Caldwell, you know as well as I do that any effort to contact that ship will either be ignored or will have them trading their cloak for shielding, and we can't transport our team - in _or_ out - with the shields engaged. Rodney wouldn't risk his team on something like _this_ if he wasn't sure of it."

Rodney paled rather quickly and nodded. "They... They can do it. And we can track them to pull them _back_."

"Fine. But I want Hermiod working this, _not_ McKay," said Caldwell. He looked over the angry faces of Rodney's team and shook his head at all of them. "Say what you want about it, but the fact is that Dr. McKay has still been missing for three months. And like it or not, there are _risks_ associated with _that_ , which I am not comfortable ignoring entirely. So you two go gear up. And McKay can get his data to Hermiod to verify. And we'll see what else can be found _first_."

The three scattered without questioning, leaving Elizabeth and Caldwell both looking baffled as they dodged out of the way.

* * *

It turned out that the Traveler doc Leuca was her own little force to be reckoned with. She couldn't have stood much taller than Teyla, but she was bigger, and louder, and in general just scarier, despite the fact - or maybe because of it, - that she was at least twenty years older. She had been around enough Sheppards and enough Kolyas that she had the situation sized up and passed judgement loudly against the Genii Commander being allowed in her place of healing at all. 

Tuaron didn't get involved until the lady doc had one of those fancy magnums aimed right at Kolya despite the fact that her patient lay between them swallowing down panic for everything he was worth. At that point, the captain and his men did their best to haul Kolya out of the room without damaging their diplomatic relations. Ford stayed in the infirmary as an extra guard for Leuca, but the woman already had herself and her staff, who were equally well armed, John noted.

Accordingly, he didn't argue with the woman when she told him to stay where he was until the gel on his back dried. Which was a bit of a problem, considering John couldn't feel it to know when it was dry. And it was compounded by the fact that Ford had taken it upon himself to become John's babysitter. While the man wasn't exactly the last person in the universe John wanted to talk to, he was on the short-list.

The kid had questions that were burning holes in his tongue not to ask, and John kept himself as closed off as he could so he didn't have to hear them. Ford took the hint for a while, but when Leuca let John sit up again, he couldn't pretend to be asleep anymore. He was very stiff when he tried to climb back into his shirt, the muscles in his shoulder blissfully numb but just as badly uncoordinated and uncooperative for it. Leuca had opinions about the fact he couldn't dress himself apparently, but she still deigned to help him. Sheppard could probably like the woman if he got stuck on the ship, at least better than he had enjoyed the company of any of the Genii medical staff. She reminded him of Rodney, which was its own level of annoying just then.

"Does McKay look like you?" Ford asked. John scowled at him for it.

"McKay looks like _McKay_ ," John replied. "What's he _supposed_ to look like?"

Ford waved vaguely toward John's back. "If you look like that..."

"Rodney's fine, and thanks for asking," John replied, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "I told you, Kolya's got it out for me. I got this shit any time Rodney tried using the word _'no'_ about anything. Kolya figured out McKay works best under _pressure_ , not _pain_. So he knocked off two birds with one metal whip and various other tricks. In conclusion, it's been a shitty summer vacation, Ford. I'm not exactly planning to write home about it."

As he spoke, though, he dug into his jammer pocket and pulled out the key to let himself out of the cuffs. If Ford wanted to be friends again suddenly, he could damn-well prove it. The kid stared as John unlocked the cuffs and handed them over for him to babysit.

"Told you," he said, noting the man's shocked expression. "Rodney worked his ass off to get the key. Then he gave it to me. And I'm keeping it. You can watch those."

John jumped off the edge of the bed and went further back into the infirmary to track down Leuca. She spotted him coming and stopped what she was doing, one eyebrow arched as she saw Ford trailing behind with the cuffs.

"Well, that's a handy trick," she observed. John nodded and held his wrists up a little so she could see the damage.

"What was that stuff you put on my back? And can I get some of it for these?" he asked. The doc took his hand to check before scowling at it and nodding. She disappeared into another room and came back with the requested medicine. Sheppard could have bathed in the stuff if he had been allowed, with the only drawback being the fact that he would probably fall asleep and never wake up if he tried it. He just slathered it on his wrists and then went dutifully back to the bed when Leuca ordered him to. John perched on the edge again, and Ford dropped the shackles on the end of the bed, muttering that the damn things were heavy. John cut him a glare for it.

"What?" Aiden complained at him. "I told you, this wasn't my fault."

"And you're going to have to excuse me for not buying it," replied John. "The Wraith thing sucked and it's not a damn competition, but I think maybe, just a little, you pointed that anger at the wrong people when you got it out of your system. And we're _still_ paying for it." 

Ford stared at him for a minute and the glare slowly faded. He crossed his arms and looked like a kid, uncomfortable and annoyed at being called out. "You think what you want," Ford replied eventually. "You're still wrong."

Sheppard figured he was ten kinds of messed up about a lot of things, but he guessed he was more right than wrong on Ford. And if the kid was pissed at him for it, that was great, because it meant he would shut up and leave John the fuck alone.

There were a few minutes of welcome silence. Then the lights around the infirmary blinked to a different color, flashing red in a pattern. Out in the hall there was an annoying, familiar-enough, cranking alarm. It sounded like Atlantis' contamination lockdown alarm. And it very noticeably wasn't going off in the infirmary. 

"What the hell-" Ford reached for his radio and started barking questions and orders. John sat back a little on the bed, claiming more territory while he could. Whatever the noise was, it was sure to rile up Kolya, and John's infirmary neutral-zone was going to lose its jurisdiction, Leuca and her itchy trigger finger or not.

When the doors to the infirmary slid open, however, it wasn't Kolya who snuck inside.

“McKay?” John hissed at the man ducking as he came around the corner. John was off the edge of the bed and moving toward him. Ronon and Teyla took up guarding positions, against the door and the rest of the infirmary. Ford and Leuca were there already, too, weapons raised. John turned quickly, hands up in an effort to claim their attention.

“Good guys! No shooting!” he said quickly. Leuca seemed to hesitate but Ford just looked pissed off.

“Captain! We need shields!” Ford barked into his radio. Rodney wrapped his arms around John then, surprising him from behind, 

“Ronon! Go!” Teyla shouted, and John tried to turn to see what was happening, but the room was suddenly bright. And then the room was gone.

In its place was the infirmary of the Daedalus. _Jeezus_ , Sheppard was tired of infirmaries. He stared around, wide-eyed, and almost missed the advance warning as Ronon rushed them and squished John and Rodney both into a crushing bear-hug. Rodney still had a hold of John around the ribs and it was impossible for even Ronon to pick them both up, but the man certainly tried. It hurt like hell but John was smiling anyway, very thankful suddenly for whatever that stuff was Leuca had given him.

“Gotta breathe, Chewie,” he rasped out. Ronon laughed and tightened his hold briefly before letting them go. John sagged back into Rodney then, changing the man's plans about stepping away. Once he had his balance back he stood on his own and Rodney eased off but John reached back to catch his wrist. He pulled Rodney into his side so he could hug him in return, ducked his head to Rodney's to keep him there and try to center. Things had happened too quick and John felt disoriented and confused and he knew he shouldn't.

Rodney took a deep breath and then stood up, stayed under John's arm but seemed determined to make him stand on his own two feet like a jerk. He grudgingly complied and blinked around at the room. 

Teyla touched his other arm, the one not still hanging around Rodney's shoulder, and pulled his foggy attention. She held a necklace in her hand and folded it into his palm. Dog tags. John huffed, realizing he hadn't even had a chance to realize the things were missing in over two months. He suddenly saw that maybe he was more messed up than he realized. 

"Teyla thing," Rodney said suddenly, confusing the woman in question, and making John smile for it. He tugged on her arm and she stepped closer, and the two ducked their foreheads to hers. She laughed as she caught on and clasped their arms in return. And Ronon, not about to be left out of the team moment, draped his arms over Teyla and John's shoulders and shoved his way in. It was a much _safer_ version of the man's usual tackle. 

"I am glad you're back," Teyla said, the smile still on her voice. "Atlantis is not the same place without family."

 _Shit_. John choked and nearly lost it. He felt Rodney lean just a little more into him and lift his head to kiss his jaw, and, yep, _that_ did him in. He'd kill McKay for it later.

* * *

Caldwell was right; It turned out that Rodney's calculations on the Travelers' ship had not been perfect. Hermiod had made a few adjustments, he had said were small, but they had been enough to scare Rodney. The physicist no longer felt comfortable in his assessment after that and refused to let his team risk themselves without him. It didn't make sense, definitely not coming from Rodney McKay really, but Teyla agreed to let him go with them. She and Ronon were used to working with him along, and after months without their team, Teyla welcomed something that seemed normal. They got him in a vest and other gear from the Daedalus armory and kept Rodney with them. 

Rodney was armed to defend himself if he had to, and he had the LSD to make sure they knew when someone was on approach on the ship. Ronon took the lead, with McKay steps behind him and attention mostly focused on the small screen as they made their way out of the Traveler ship's docking bay. The doors opened soundlessly and Ronon cleared the halls before Rodney followed him. The moment he crossed the threshold into the main hallways, however, an alarm went off. 

"What's that?" Ronon hissed at them from the opposite corner. Rodney hurried out of the doorway with Teyla before the doors could close them in the big bay. He looked stressed.

"Radiation sensors, most likely. I was in a hurry and kept my boots- my fault. Very much my fault," Rodney said. He hurried to catch up to Ronon and Teyla stayed at his heels. He checked the LSD, with it's maps updated for the Aurora-class ship thanks to Hermiod, and pointed Ronon down another hall. "That way."

It wasn't all that far to get to the infirmary, but they still ran into two people on the way. Ronon quietly took them down without permanent harm, trim and neat and quick, and tugged Rodney along with him. Teyla made sure no one approached from behind, and when they got to the infirmary, Rodney set right to work making the Ancient technology override the lockdown he had triggered. Teyla and Ronon stood beside him to watch the hall, but it seemed no one expected trouble from the infirmary. The doors slid open silently and Rodney was instantly moving, Ronon a step behind him and Teyla watching the halls until the doors slid closed again. Only then did she look forward, seeing the scene Ronon had covered: Rodney heading for John, Ronon with his weapon up and aimed at Aiden Ford. 

Teyla lowered her weapon, jaw slack as she stared. Ford stood with his own gun aimed, wavering uncertainly between Ronon and John. With his back to them, Teyla saw the blood staining the shoulders of Sheppard's shirt. Then Rodney had John, triggered the beacon, and the transporter lit up the room. Ronon's face took on a dark smile and Teyla saw him adjust his aim in preparation for when John and Rodney were no longer in the way. 

"Ronon! Go!" Teyla ordered, closing the short distance between them and triggering her own device to recall the both of them to the Daedalus. She would not watch him take down Aiden just then, damn whatever consequences could follow from letting the younger man go. Whatever Ronon thought of her for the intervention, he kept it to himself when they were back on the Daedalus. It was buried under the joy of their team being back in one place, once again together, safe from harm.

They were far from _okay_ , but they were _there_ , and that would be the first step. 

By the time they recovered enough to even let Elizabeth see through the huddle that they had indeed brought John Sheppard back, the Daedalus had made the hyperjump back to Atlantis. Elizabeth welcomed John back and in the next breath was promising that Carson would be onboard soon. Dr. Beckett was a friendly and welcome face, perhaps, but Sheppard shook his head at the suggestion of staying longer in an infirmary than he had to.

"No," he said, stubborn as usual, thankfully. "I just want to get home."

Colonel Caldwell, of course, heard this and radioed for Hermiod to send the Atlantis crew home. Elizabeth blinked at the unexpected orders, because that was certainly a change in plans, and then they all found themselves in the infirmary on Atlantis. 

John stared around the room to figure out where he was and became very obviously agitated. He was already raw and his eyes were still red and he leaned into Rodney more than Teyla had ever seen John in anyone's space. And ending up in another infirmary earned a raised voice and a " _Hey! That wasn't fucking funny_!" nearly shouted at the ceiling.

"I don't think he was trying to be funny, Colonel," Elizabeth offered, her relieved smile faded. Rodney kept hold of John's wrist and refused to let him just walk out, and then Carson rounded the corner, one of the nurses with him. Dr. Beckett saw AR-1 waiting for him and a stunned expression hit his face that seemed to shame John into quiet.

"Colonel? What in hell happened?" Carson blurted out, the double shock of their appearance in his infirmary at all just further compounded by John Sheppard in the middle of it looking ragged, emaciated, and bruised.

It was not surprising to Teyla, however, that Colonel Sheppard looked little better in person than he had over the video connection days earlier. Visible bruises on his face and a stiffness in how he held himself showed clearly that the man was in pain, and the oddity of Rodney McKay hovering at his shoulder and readily touching only reinforced the impression. John, however, insisted he would be fine as long as Carson ran blood panels and checked for everything remotely known to mankind as a potential problem, and _maybe-yeah_ he could take some pain pills. But it was enough to get the man to agree to stay in the infirmary at least for a little while.

"Alright, then," said Carson. He did not sound at all at ease with it. "Testing we can do. I'm so glad ye managed those twelve years of medical school while ye were gone, Colonel, makes my job much easier, doesn't it?"

"Har har," returned John as he climbed up on the infirmary bed the doctor herded him toward. Carson looked frustrated but he stomped it down before he looked to where Teyla and Ronon and Elizabeth waited not far away. 

"This will apparently take some time-" he began.

"My team can stay. I told you, I'm _not_ staying in here," said John. Professional irritation warred with deepening concern for a friend and Carson seemed to give up. The nurse tried to help John with the shirt and he stopped her.

"Blood tests, doc," he insisted.

"Fine," replied Carson. He stepped up beside his nurse and quietly steered her away from their belligerent patient. "Go start that for me, if ye would. For now, I want the room cleared."

"Oh jeezus," muttered John at that. His friends stood where they were, not about to leave the room now. Rodney stood not far from John, injury-free and comparatively healthy, and yet looking anxious. Even Ronon knew something was very wrong and would not easily give it up. Carson looked between them.

"Look, I just got out of the infirmary three days ago..." John tried.

"The Genii think it's perfectly safe to have an underground nuclear reactor as a backyard decoration piece," Rodney cut in, bitterly. " _They_ are not medical care."

"How about we start with you, Rodney? Are ye hurt?" Carson asked, patience painstakingly gathered.

"I'm fine. _He's_ got a list," replied Rodney. "I can give you most of it."

"Rodney..." It was almost a warning from John.

Carson held a hand up to settle them. "That's good, but let's make sure you're-"

"No! I _just_ told you-" Rodney broke off, paled slightly at his own words, even as John visibly cringed. "Uh. I mean. I'm fine. Physically fine. I think I need to see Heightmeyer, though."

"Okay, well, for now, you're here and you're safe?" Carson asked, and Rodney nodded. "Good. And the Colonel-"

"I'm fine."

" _Not_ fine," argued Rodney. He tugged at John's shirt. "Bleeding. And when we first got there-"

"Leuca just fixed my shoulder.And _...That..._ was over _two months ago_ and I'm _fine_."

"Yeah, and _I've_ been terrified of it every day since, so stop saying you're _fine_ ," returned Rodney. John stared at him before he very visibly gave up, his shoulders slumped and he reached over to grab Rodney's wrist. Rodney then held it up to show Carson the state of John's wrist. 

"And there's these. They reopened his back a week ago. We've been living surrounded by leaking _radiation_ for two months, he's had open injuries the whole time, and they used a metal _everything_ so who knows what-"

"Like I said, _blood_ tests," John interrupted. "Can we just... Not? At least, not right now?"

"At least let Carson tend to the bleeding," Teyla offered up. "You are safe here. Let him make sure you stay that way."

"No! I was just in a damned infirmary-" John stopped himself and looked over at her, and she saw worry on his face. Teyla shook her head to chase it off.

"Ronon and I will stay here to stand watch, and we will keep the room cleared," she said. "But you _will_ stay where Carson can help you."

"Just... Don't let Rodney do anything stupid, that's all," said John. And he still hadn't let go of Rodney to risk it, himself.

"Either of you, then," said Ronon. John rolled his eyes. Rodney glared at them both.

"Hello? I'm the one genius in this room. I'm not the one doing stupid things like refusing care," he said. He focused on John, pleading. "Real, actual care this time. With someone _at least_ five levels beyond leeches and bloodletting,"

"Oh, well, thank you, Rodney," replied Carson, rolling his eyes. John grinned at them for it, though. Then he reluctantly let go of Rodney and pulled the shirt up over his head. Teyla ground her jaw as she again saw the dried and fresh blood soaking the back of the shirt. 

"Clear the room," John said quietly, glancing at the team he had previously given permission to stay. He looked to Carson. "Then Rodney can give you the list."

Already pulling at Ronon to get him moving, Teyla nodded and set to work keeping her promise.

* * *


	17. Chapter 17

Clearing the room didn’t cut it and Carson decided not to let them stay in the open emergency room. Instead he tucked them further into the medical bay, into one of the larger isolation rooms, just to be safe. Carson wasn't messing around with any of it. He even put them in a quarantine room with a door that he could threaten to lock if John really refused to stay in the infirmary. 

All of the blood tests were being run. John had to sit through a tetanus shot, a careful exam of the scars and welts on his back, and cultures being taken of the infection the doctor on Ford's ship had found on the stripe on his shoulder. They both had to sit through x-rays and other imaging tests, which seemed entirely counter-productive but Carson's team weren't actually idiots and voodoo practitioners, so Rodney reluctantly trusted them. 

They had both been shoved into decontamination showers and were back in their own clothes, finally, which went a long way toward Rodney feeling better, in general. Even still, John would barely talk for actual hours once they were home, and Rodney had been the only translator for the silence. And Carson was half mad from the frustration of not having all the answers he wanted, but Rodney __didn't know__ a lot. He was never in the room when John was hurt, except once, and the conversations he'd had with the Genii doctor were not overall useful to Carson over a month later. 

Sheppard was stuck to an IV again, more antibiotics and anti-inflammatories, and Rodney was camped out in his own infirmary bed next to him for the same reasons: too much radiation was Bad For Humans. From what Carson eventually wheedled out of John, the infections from his shoulder and the new one on his back were very bad signs, of the kind that warned of potential radiation poisoning thanks to the overall environment the two of them had been living in for months. Rodney hadn't been hurt like John had, but there had still been plenty of exposure.

When John did finally take over answering questions, it was to admit to being attacked twice, the once by Kolya that Rodney knew about and one by another soldier that he hadn't. John needed to make sure there was nothing else screwing with his blood. No radiation, no bad transfusions, no alien STDs. Otherwise he wouldn't have said a damn thing. Rodney stared at him, jaw slack, and remembered three days of watching a stupid scrolling screen because John had been shut up in the jail cell for the offense of 'causing a scene' in the middle of the day when he should have been locked up and asleep. And he remembered the days of quiet from John that followed.

The fact that John had been left to only a single meal a day was also flagged as a problem by Carson, another stumbling block to any sure diagnosis, and he was beyond concerned by the totality of the abuse. 

"It may have been weeks of your lives, lads, and ye may have simply been adapting tae keep going, but the toll it's taken will take many more weeks yet to unravel," Carson told them soberly. "No matter how many tests we run today."

"I'm not staying in here the whole damn time," John warned.

"No, John. A few days though, yes," the doctor replied. And because it was Carson, or just because of the last few months, John didn't argue. 

"If it makes you feel any better at all, Rodney's staying where he is, too," Carson added. And Rodney didn't feel inclined to complain about it. 

For once in his adult life, McKay didn't want to be working. He was sure he would get bored eventually. But he could wait a few days. After the medical staff was done making him take pills and there were no more IVs for fluids and antibiotics and probiotics, and after he knew he wasn't walking around with cancer where there should be marrow in his bones. And not until he knew John was going to be okay. Whether John wanted to admit it or not, the laundry list of problems and pain was still because of Rodney. And that was going to take a lot more work suddenly to wrap his big brain around. They were home, where they should be safe, but the problem with the Genii was that their backwards, alien ways had followed them anyway.

The plan to make John stay where Carson could monitor him didn't work out very well once Rodney let it slip that Lorne was apparently in the brig for it, too.

It only became a topic of discussion at all because John wanted to know why the "supposed genius'' did the moronic thing of going back to get him when he was home free and could have just sent the military Major who had __daring rescues__ in the job description. And while it was a valid point, it was still rendered moot by the fact that Major Lorne had gotten in trouble. It didn't help that Rodney didn't really know much, only that Teyla had threatened that she and Ronon would join him there.

"Sorry, what was that, now?" John asked, not sounding very apologetic about anything. "Lorne is __where__?"

"...I don't know, exactly?" Rodney replied. "Teyla said the brig. That might have... Not been what she meant."

"Beckett!" Sheppard said, not exactly yelling, but definitely loud. He sat up from where he had been curled up in bed like a good patient and started reaching to get himself out of bed. Rodney moved quicker and much easier, but he was still stuck to his own fluid pack and blankets that got in the way. He got tangled and tripped and let out a yelp that stopped Sheppard's escape attempt, so it was an accidental success, however painful. 

"Rodney, don't you dare-" John complained at him, stuck on the opposite side of the bed from where Rodney had fallen on the other side of __his__ bed. Rodney hadn't torn the IV out or anything drastic, so he poked his head back up over the edge of the bed, even though he hadn't gotten his feet under himself yet.

"I'm good. Just... Tripped."

John sagged and rolled his eyes, but he looked like he was having trouble breathing.

The doors __swished__ open then and Carson came in, Ronon and Teyla on his heels.

"What's this ruckus?" the doctor wanted to know. Ronon moved automatically to pick Rodney up from the floor because he wasn't having the best luck with the coordination around the IV. John watched to be sure Rodney really was still in one piece before looking back to Carson.

"I need to talk to Elizabeth. Either get me off this stuff, or get her in here," he said, and it was a good old fashioned __order__ , which made Rodney actually feel a little better about life. 

"Colonel-"

" _ _Don't__ call me that," John interrupted. "Just figure out how I can talk to Weir, because one way or another, I'm going to."

Carson stared at him for a moment before he finally nodded. "I'll call her in then. Just the two of you, __stay__."

John tucked the blanket back over his legs as an offered proof that he would stay. But it was __conditional__ , and he stared at Carson, waiting. The doctor pointed to John and Rodney both as he looked to Teyla and Ronon.

"If you would, keep them settled, please?" he said. The healthy half of AR-1 both nodded, so Carson left the room to track down Elizabeth. Ronon leaned against the wall not far from the door, while Teyla perched herself on the foot of John's bed, facing him cross-legged and frowning.

"As I have always understood it, the idea of this place is to stay calm and get better," she pointed out. John arched an eyebrow at her but kept his mouth shut. Rodney felt increasingly frustrated.

"We got the wrong beds," he said suddenly, out loud, without thinking. But now that he had realized it, it was a problem. For him anyway. John looked over at him. Rodney pointed at the door behind John. "We should switch."

"What's this, Rodney?" Teyla asked. She was confused but Rodney wasn't sure he wanted to explain. He really wasn't even sure how. John looked over to the door, and Ronon standing near it. Then he nodded.

"Fire drill," he announced. Teyla blinked at him, face scrunched up as she watched Rodney and John both again attempt to untangle their various medical attachments from the bed so that they could get out of bed.

"What-" she began, only to be talked over by Ronon's " _ _Hey! No leaving!"__

"Not leaving," John grouched at him. "Just switching."

Ronon crossed his arms. "Nope. Doc says you stay."

With fewer physical injuries to monitor, Rodney had far less annoying attachments and managed to not get tied up in the blankets this time, so he made it to his feet and caught the IV pole to walk it over. Teyla fussed at him to get back in bed but he waved her off. Then he walked between the door and John, between Teyla and Ronon, and told Sheppard to shove over. And he did, no arguing. Ronon stepped forward to help, just as confused as Teyla, as Rodney tried to arrange the IV out of the way and settled in next to John. John tossed the blanket over him when he was sitting down, even. And Rodney at least felt better about it.

Teyla now sat just past Rodney's socked feet, though she was on top of the blankets, and she looked back at them, reading them both. She glanced at the door and then Ronon, then waved him over to her.

"We'll watch the door better," she said, a quiet promise. When Ronon shifted close enough, she caught his hand to keep him near, but her attention stayed on John and Rodney. "But you are home now. You are both safe here."

Rodney made a face at the reminder. "That's beside the point."

Ronon looked them over, then shared a look with Teyla. He leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, then left the bedside to start messing with the equipment on the other side of the bed. Rodney blinked at the pair; when had __that__ happened? And he was suddenly wedged in next to John but feeling somehow like he missed him. That was... Rude.

Beside him, John tracked Ronon in the room but stayed quiet. The door made a buzzing noise as someone on the other side of it decided they wanted to get in. John smirked over at the doors and then went back to watching Ronon tear up the room. Teyla reached over and poked at John's foot under the blanket. 

" _ _You__ wanted to talk to Elizabeth. You can't lock them out now," she reminded him. 

“Atlantis says you’re wrong.” John scowled at the valid point and scrunched his nose a little. It was actually nice to know that Sheppard could still interact with the city the same as before. __Something__ was normal. Then Teyla stood up and moved to stand in front of the door, manually triggering it open after John had mentally locked it.

Teyla verified who it was who waited on the other side before stepping aside and resuming her seat at the end of the bed. Ronon had cleared the space between the beds and was shoving them closer together when Carson walked into the room. The doctor looked thoroughly confused. Elizabeth was looking like her normal self, too, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"What in the devil- Ronon? The beds-" Carson said, stuttering.

"They took the wrong beds. We're fixing it," said the man who was single-handedly "fixing" things as the others looked on. A few seconds later, he was causing Carson angina by accepting the IV poles from John and helping him scoot from one bed to the other without disconnecting himself from the monitors Carson had him on. Suddenly they weren't squished together anymore and Rodney somehow felt baffled. Two beds made one big bed, so he could take up his own space for the first time in months, while still having John next to him within reach. He grinned stupidly over at John for it.

"And this is better?" Carson asked, still sounding disapproving. Rodney nodded automatically.

"Much," he said. 

"Good," said Elizabeth, a quiet reminder that she had shown up when paged. "I'm glad for that."

"'lizabeth, get Lorne out of the brig," said John, apparently done being sidetracked by the domesticalities of preparing for a multiple-day stay in the hospital wing.

Elizabeth frowned and let out a frustrated sigh. "Colonel Caldwell is handling that matter."

"There's no damn __matter__ to be handled," said John. "The man saved my life doing what he did. And you locked him up for it. For, what, a week now?"

"Four days, John," Elizabeth clarified. "He disobeyed a direct order from the Colonel to wait. He went against orders, he went against intel, and he abused the trust my staff has in his position to do it. He was the ranking officer on Atlantis! And he put himself in direct harm-"

"Yeah, well, it seems to be a prerequisite for running this place, so the guy was just leveling up," said Sheppard. "We don't have enough people left on this expedition to leave anybody behind, and apparently he understands that-"

"We were working on other plans. He needed to __wait__ ," replied Elizabeth. John shook his head at her.

"The other plans wouldn't have worked. Ask Carson. My transmitter is gone. Whatever you were working on would have hinged on that. And the only reason any of you could find either of us was that beacon, that __he__ knew to get to us," said John. "I know how close the guy got, Elizabeth. He helped me put on a damn tac vest when they moved us. His intel was __great__ and he __knew__ what he was doing."

Elizabeth worried at her lower lip as she considered it. "He abandoned Atlantis when Colonel Caldwell and I were on the Daedalus. We aren't talking about just stealing a chopper, John."

"Hell no, __that's__ my damn point!" John returned, color and animation returning as a flare. "The difference here is Major Lorne knew what he was doing when he did it. He had a plan. He had an __exit strategy__. He knew he was the only one who could pull it off, and he knew you and Caldwell weren't going to listen to him on it. And if I'm still down for the count, Atlantis needs that guy back at the job he's already held for the last two months, because he's a damn sight better than what she'd have otherwise. Get Lorne out of the damn brig or I fuckin' will."

No one was at all used to or expecting the hard line from Colonel Sheppard. His tone and the anger in it were foreign to Rodney, even after a few months of sitting with the man through torture. It wasn't even something he had heard John use on Kolya at all, except once over the radio, when Kolya had threatened to kill Elizabeth. And now he was trying to defend Lorne from Elizabeth and Caldwell, and there it was.

"John..." Rodney said, hesitant to direct any of that anger toward himself. "Lorne's safe where he is. Nobody's gonna... Hurt him, or-or starve anybody or anything here..."

Elizabeth swore under her breath and she quickly nodded. "I can show you the schedule with the cafeteria, John. He's perfectly safe. It's just a... Time out. Penalty box."

"Hockey's shit, but you still don't stay in a penalty box for __four days,__ Elizabeth," Sheppard replied. He wasn't backing down much from what he wanted. "I get that he's safe. I want him __out__. Charges dropped. You want to note his file, fine, but he keeps his rank. No further disciplinary. And you note on that file that he saved my goddamned life, and Rodney's, and we call it good."

"I take your point, Colonel," said Elizabeth, nodding. "I'll talk to Colonel Caldwell."

"Thank you," John said. And his hard glare dropped to the bed just in front of Teyla's knee, though the anger hadn't quite dropped from his voice yet. "And sorry. But no. Not okay."

"Yes, I can understand," the director said. "And I apologize, we were perhaps limited in our perspective of the situation at the time. It was very reactionary. And we will correct it."

"Appreciate it," said John, glancing up at her again. He shook his head and seemed to shut down. "I'm done. Tired." 

John was definitely worn down and couldn't physically remove himself from the conversation any further. It kicked Rodney in the chest to realize he had seen a shade of the same withdrawal from John before. He started shaking his head and looked to Elizabeth and Carson. 

"Okay, bye. No more talking," he told them. And Elizabeth nodded and let herself out. Carson lingered and Rodney waved him out. Carson frowned at him.

"We should move the IVs," Carson said. “There’s no room for them with the-”

"Later," said Ronon, backing Rodney as John shook his head about it. 

"Alright then," said Carson. "Just be careful moving around, Rodney. Both of ye."

The patients acknowledged with a nod and Carson left the room. When he was gone, John carefully moved to the side of the bed closest to Rodney and sprawled out to sleep on his stomach, with his hand wrapped around Rodney's wrist. Ronon moved over to fetch the remote for the bed, lowering the head of the bed so John wasn't twisted up trying to sleep while accommodating the weird location of the IV. Teyla still sat at Rodney's feet, looking comfortable and content enough to be there and quiet. He didn't want their friends to leave and Rodney looked uncertainly from her to John. If he had wanted them gone, he would have said something, surely.

"I think he's been sleeping most of the day for weeks," Rodney said. He looked at his watch and winced. "Today... Started nineteen hours ago. For us."

"Then you should both sleep," said Teyla. She started to stand up but Rodney shook his head. 

"Can you get my pack? It has our tablets in it. My laptop," he said. 

"No working," muttered John, his voice muffled by the pillow but still cranky.

"No, I want the games," said Rodney. John lifted his head to look back at him.

"I could golf?"

"No, you can sleep. The rest of us can find something to do," he replied. At that, Ronon moved back around to find the backpack Rodney had asked for, and then pulled up a chair to sit in, notably between Rodney and the door.

John let go of Rodney's wrist and shoved around between the two beds until he found the controls and, as retaliation for pushing him out of game time, he laid the head of the bed down. Rodney was already sitting up so the bed behind him flattening out didn't bother him. He just took the backpack Ronon brought him and fished out the tablets. And while he was distracted, John wedged himself back against Rodney's side and into his space with his arm over his lap and his face at his hip. 

And he slept that way, as Rodney and Ronon tried to teach Teyla the racing game on the tablets. Because Rodney was too wired and awake to sleep, and too stubborn to let his friends leave his sight until he could.

* * *

There was no way Carson could be talked into letting John leave the immediate care of the medical bay sooner than forty-eight hours. John tried everything he could think of. And it did nothing good for his head to realize how many of the tricks he defaulted to first had been what worked on the Genii. Rodney noticed them before Carson did, and he would say something, get protective, and John would realize he screwed up. He was home, he was safe, he just forgot what exactly that looked like. And it definitely __didn't__ look like Rodney telling Carson to back off because John was acting wrong.

After twenty four hours, Rodney was let loose but there were... problems. The first hurdle was that he didn't want to leave. John wanted to leave, Rodney didn't, and that was the way John's luck was going to run things. But Dr. Kate Heightmeyer got involved and convinced Rodney to try, so he did. The first time he left, he managed two hours in his own room before he came back to check on Sheppard. He visited and was chased out again and made it four hours before he came back. It really didn't help John adjust any. He kept looking over Rodney's shoulder at the door, expecting Kolya like every other infirmary visit from Rodney had come attached with, and the tablet golf game in his hands couldn't shake the paranoia. 

"Do you need Carson or something?" Rodney asked at one point, standing up to go get whatever John kept looking for. John waved him down and shrugged it off.

"No. Just... Remembered stuff. Looking for stuff that's not there," he said. Rodney looked back over his shoulder at the door again and then seemed to see what John saw.

"Oh... Uh. What-"

"I just need to get out of here," John said, shaking his head. He caught himself looking at the door again a few minutes later as Rodney rambled something about visiting the labs, and got annoyed with himself. He shoved over on the bed and waved for Rodney to sit next to him instead of in the chair. That helped. John fell asleep watching Rodney beat his time on one of the games, and he woke up sometime later on his own, the lights off and the last of daylight still coming in through the big windows. The sunlight was a good anchor to reality and Sheppard didn't freak out about being on his own in the dark. 

John cleaned up some, with a sort-of haircut from one of the nurses, and a shave and his own clothes again. He was better with the showers here, because there were certain habits that had become automatic to him in Atlantis that kicked in on autopilot, like playing with the temperature and pressure settings, and the city would respond before John's memories of drowning could escape their mental box. He was off the noisy monitors, aside from somebody checking his blood pressure and temperature every so often. Rodney stayed gone longer and John stared at the tablet or dozed through most of it. 

The next morning, Carson moved him out of isolation, so he could still have people around, and visitors other than his team filtered in. One at a time, when he could handle it. Presents that looked like stuff from the mainland started showing up, and flowers from botany. They were cheerful things, and Sheppard hadn't seen flowers of any kind for months, despite sitting through many rants from Rodney that humans needed to see sunshine and/or plants in order to survive long-term isolation, so he didn't mind the gifts piling up on the cart behind the bed and the IV rack. Rodney showed up again once John had a new blanket and some kind of stuffed animal from the Athosians and half the floral department stacked up around him. McKay waved to the flowers and then sneezed.

"That's what my old desk looks like," said Rodney. "Sort of. Not quite so much of it. I think... I think people like you better here, actually."

"Feel like some kinda Disney princess. Just missing the tweeting birds," muttered John.

"Royalty isn't everything it's cracked up to be," replied Rodney, a rare moment of self-awareness that John didn't want to see. He caught at Rodney's hand to tug him out of it.

"Don't need it. Screw royalty. I got somebody who'll nuke a city and obliterate a solar system with me," he said. Rodney's lips angled up in a dark grin and he leaned in and ducked his forehead to John's. For the first time in what felt like days, John teased for a kiss and Rodney obliged, eager and still careful. He leaned into the bedside and John leaned into him. Rodney had been gone for hours and John had missed him, even if he had spent most of that time mentally checked out in whatever ways he could manage.

A polite cough startled them both and John reflexively shrunk back to keep Rodney between himself and their visitor out of well-ingrained habit.

"Colonel Sheppard? Sorry for interrupting..." 

And John almost thought he recognized the voice. He sat up off the pillows to peek around Rodney. "Lorne?"

Rodney dropped into his chair to clear the way, but he moved it so he could greet the major, too. 

"Yes sir," said Evan Lorne, the ever present smile on his face. "Dr. Weir said you were awake and aware. Wanted to check in."

Sheppard held out his right hand to Lorne in thanks, then, and Lorne met him with a solid handshake. "Yeah, mostly. Mostly I want out of the infirmary. And I've been told you're the reason I made it out of the last one. So thank you for that, Major."

"Oh, we're probably even, since you apparently got me out of the brig," he replied easily.

"Yelling at Elizabeth is not exactly comparable to infiltrating the Genii bunker," Rodney said, because even John was thinking it. He nodded.

"Twice," John added. He offered up a dry grin. "You could have gone a little easier on that vest, though, not gonna lie. It was a vest, not a damn corset."

"Sorry, sir. Was just trying to sell it, under the circumstances," Lorne said. "Apparently there was a bounty on my head and I was damn lucky Kolya and his people didn't recognize me."

"So I've been told." A small part of John said he should ask for more information, ask about the bounty, who all was on it, how compromised their teams were. That part of him that wanted to jump back into his job perked up a little, but Sheppard was tired. And he wanted Lorne to have the city, trust his gut to do what needed done like he had been doing so far, not wonder at his old boss questioning his calls. "As it happens, we know the guy responsible for that. We might have to have a conversation with him about it before the Daedalus leaves town."

Lorne nodded, grinning lightly at the casual joke. "Colonel Caldwell would love a good old fashioned showdown."

"Then send him out to the __Genii corral.__ That ship I was on, the Revenant... They're looking for ATA carriers to help get her going more than minimal function. Their doc, Leuca, is competent. If they want to drop ties with the Genii, we can help them with the gene therapy. If not, Caldwell can take their ship."

"And their stargate," added Rodney. He was idle, stressed that John could see, though he didn't know why, and Rodney was working through it out loud. "The Genii stargate, I mean. Not the ship. I hope their ship doesn't have a stargate. God. No."

Lorne looked between them, considering it. "This is confirmed?"

John nodded. "Confirmed. Captain's name is Tuaron. See if Ronon knows him. Maybe a good way to get you back on Caldwell's good side."

"I'll make the report, sir, but it's been a day. There's no guarantee the ship will still be there," said Major Lorne.

"Maybe not. And if so, that's on me, not you. Just to be clear on that point," said John. He shrugged. He wasn't exactly feeling chatty with upper management at the moment, and it seemed somewhat mutual. Lorne looked to Rodney. 

"Do you think it's possible to take the Genii gate?" he asked. "Without putting men on the ground?"

Rodney's brow furrowed and he stalled out, shifting gears from wherever he had been since he first walked in the door. 

"Well, of course, it's possible. It's the question of whether or not it would be usable after the fact..." he said. Lorne was the picture of composed innocence.

"Dr. McKay, how quickly could you get an answer to that question? I've got a meeting scheduled with Colonel Caldwell in a half an hour. If it's a feasible suggestion, I'd like to make sure someone makes it. Before too much time gets away from us."

"He won't listen to me on this," said Rodney, shaking his head. "It would have to go through Hermiod."

Lorne accepted it with a shrug. "In the meantime, Atlantis will listen, Doctor. Director Weir will suggest it if you think it's viable. And Colonel Sheppard, I assume, will also. But the Genii threat needs to be removed, and we don't have the personnel to do it the old fashioned way. Your idea seems like the most effective one I've heard yet."

Sheppard looked between them, keeping quiet. He wasn't in charge on Atlantis, rank or not, pretty floral gift-wall from her people notwithstanding. He wasn't even allowed out of the hospital wing. John was staying out of it. Taking the 'gate meant no more Genii threats, sure. But it also meant trapping Kolya and Cowen on the same planet. And Cowen wouldn't let Kolya screw things up a third time if his second shot cost them their stargate. 

Sheppard wouldn't get the chance to settle things with them if there was no 'gate for him to get there by. And maybe that was a good thing, no matter how much he didn't like it. Rodney liked it, as he sat in the chair next to the bed and babbled his way through the list of things that would have to be accounted for and accomplished and prepared ahead.

"Sounds like you two should go talk to Weir," said Sheppard finally. "Get on it."

Rodney looked over at him, surprised, already frowning. "But I just got here."

"Not like Carson's letting _ _me__ go anywhere," replied John. 

"But I don't want to work," said Rodney, and John mentally called __bullshit__ because the look on Rodney's face had said something entirely different. He just shrugged.

"I can't tell you what to do. But it was your idea," was all he said. Rodney stared back at him, edgy, his knee bouncing, before he finally shoved himself out of the chair with a __'Fine__.'

"You can come back," John pointed out, already __not__ -apologizing. Rodney bobbed his head and leaned in to kiss him __good-bye__ , since their __hello__ had already been interrupted. John caught his hand on the bed and squeezed but let him leave, feeling his ears turn pink. Lorne looked amused, anyway, and added in a less-than-uniform salute as he backed away to follow Rodney.

"Thank you for the intel, sir. I'll do my best to take care of it for you. Proper channels this time," said the young major. John wanted to tell the guy to screw the rules, do what needed done, but talking was suddenly a difficult prospect. John waved him off.

When they were gone, he paged Carson using the email on the tablet, and asked ( _ _Again__. Like he was _ _five__.) if he could be allowed to go back to his own room yet, or at least moved back to an isolated room. Carson took a few minutes to get back to him, but when he did, John was moved back to isolation. And Dr. Heightmeyer was his very first visitor back in the old room. Not that he had much to say to her. Keeping quiet kept it easier to breathe, and, as a bonus, it meant the docs wouldn’t clear him for a mission debrief and Caldwell and Weir would stay off his back.

John played golf on the tablet and forgot how to talk for a few hours until Rodney tracked him down. And he had plenty to say about the fact that John had been moved back to isolation at his own request when the bet had been that Carson wouldn't let him go __anywhere__. Rodney and his semantical hangups. John just showed him his new high score in the golf game and asked if there were any movies on the tablets. 

"If there were movies on the tablets, __you__ wouldn't have been my only source of entertainment for three months," Rodney pointed out, which seemed fair.

"Movies would be good," John replied. Rodney grumbled at him for it and took the tablet from him. A few minutes later he climbed up on the bed and had the tablet playing something off the network. He told him what it was, some comedy from the seventies, probably British, but John didn't register it. He slumped against Rodney's shoulder and was asleep before the beginning titles had finished.

* * *


	18. Chapter 18

Life didn't make much more sense after Carson did let John off the IV to finally leave the infirmary. The man walked out looking a lot healthier after four days, with color on his face that wasn't just from the bruising. He still had bruises, his cheek and the side of his face were a green-purple that hadn't shown up for nearly twelve hours after they got him back, and he said it was from Kolya's arguing with Leuca. But the other color was back, too, so he didn't look like a see-through white ghost anymore. He had been eating regularly for a week and had some of the fullness back to his face, reminding Rodney of just how much his friend had lost while they were trapped. 

The harshest reminder was when they left the infirmary. John approached doors like the unknown lay beyond the threshold, and he would actually peek around corners before walking out into the hall. He seemed to realize what he was doing and stopped. 

"I think... I should try taking a walk. Like... Alone. This is... This is messing with my head," he admitted. Rodney frowned at him.

"Maybe you shouldn't be alone then," he reasoned. "If you get lost-"

"No, I don't think it's a getting-lost kind of weird. I know where I am, Rodney. I'm okay. I just... I haven't gone anywhere without somebody _dragging me_ there for months. I gotta work that out," he said. And it made sense. So Rodney offered to wait for him in his rooms, so John could get himself to his own apartment without a babysitter and then figure things out. John wrapped him in a grateful hug right there in the empty hallway and sealed it with one of his _thank-you_ kisses. So Rodney watched him wander off, itching to follow him and making himself go to his own corner of home instead. 

John showed up around four hours later. With a backpack. And a book. _War and Peace_. They both dragged on the man’s arms, far too heavy for him to be carrying, even at his sides. Rodney stared at him.

"Are you kidding me?" he blurted.

"What? I haven't finished it yet," John replied. He paused, suddenly mentally stuck only steps inside the room. "Your bed is bigger than mine, right?"

Rodney blinked at the question as he realized what the backpack was for. They hadn't exactly discussed any of it. But they had apparently come to the mutual conclusion that they would stick together. Even at home. "Uh. I don't know. It's not something we ever ran a comparison on."

John looked up at him then. "I can't sleep. I tried, but... I just figured I'd see if I could crash with you until I get over it. Whatever it is. I'll take the floor if..." 

Rodney made a face at him for it, offended by the suggestion. "You will not. We'll figure it out."

He took John's pack before the man tried to retreat out of the room with it. It didn't make sense. Maybe they could have discussed it first, but what John was asking for was what Rodney wanted anyway. He wasn't going to sleep on the _floor_.

And they found themselves actually left on their own, voluntarily, with access to sunshine and doors they could lock and unlock themselves. With their own clothes, and their own stuff in easy reach, and nobody expecting anything out of them other than to rest and recover and attend doctors appointments to make sure they were still alive and healthy. (Well, getting healthy, in John's case. Carson was quite amazed at how healthy Rodney was for the ordeal; he had lost weight but it apparently fixed his cholesterol problems. His blood pressure was another matter entirely, but the assumption was that it was hypertension from the stress and would calm down. When people stopped stressing him out. _John._ )

John looked around the room and flailed the massive book he carried enough to make the hardcover and a few pages flap and make noise. It got tossed on the end of the bed.

"Now what?" the man asked, sounding every bit as lost as the question implied. He glanced at Rodney but otherwise was very intent on the windows and the sunlight.

"Now... We're home. We... get back to it. Right? The city's still here. We get to keep it that way," said Rodney. "I mean. Eventually. When thinking doesn't hurt. I have a few _thousand_ hours of medical leave and vacation time that Carson wants me to take, but I doubt I'll get in more than two weeks. Zelenka already broke things while I was gone and it can't just sit there very long or botany's going to lose their heat lamps and then we're on limited rations again."

Sheppard nodded absently, frowning. "Yeah, that's good."

It wasn't exactly confident. More like John when he smiled and nodded his head and passed on contributing to a conversation he was accidentally present for. The problem, of course, being that Rodney and John were the only people in the room, so it left Rodney talking to himself.

"Is that not the plan?" Rodney asked, confused. John winced and shrugged.

"I didn't think I'd make it back here, you know? And now I'm... Well, not fit, I guess. I _can't_ get back to it," he replied. "D'you think you can get Weir to keep me on with the science team, like before? Just to... I dunno, light stuff up like I started out? You'll still need me for the chair, right?"

"What are you-" Rodney trailed off, confusion hitting the slow shock of comprehension. "No, John, you're going to get better. And things will get back to normal."

John rolled his eyes and stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, because he had one, and he could. "I can't actually do my job, Rodney. I can't even sleep. So much... doesn't work."

Rodney tugged on his arm to make him look at him, suddenly realizing how annoying it was when he avoided looking at people when John did it to him. He had to physically put himself in the man's way, catching the front of his shirt at his ribs to keep him focused front. "Of course not. It's not even been a week! You can't undo months of damage in, what, four days!"

John cheated and ducked his forehead to Rodney's. And he just stood there, quiet, small trembles hitting his shoulders. Rodney tugged on his shirt.

"Look. You're tired. That's all. Well, not all, there's a _list_ of everything on top of tired, and all of it adds up to whatever you're thinking, it's... Probably not right," Rodney said, thinking it was a perfectly reasonable observation. John laughed at it at least, quiet maybe, but some kind of amused.

"So I'm not supposed to think yet?" he asked. Rodney started to argue and then reconsidered.

"No, because your orders are to think positive and if you can't follow your own orders, you aren't thinking right, so no. We'll go out to the pier if you want. Or stay here. Or do the comparison testing to determine whether we should be here or at yours," replied Rodney. "But if you can be annoying every other day of the week, I can hold you to it now."

John closed his eyes and leaned into his hands at that, like an invitation. Rodney shifted back enough to tease in a few kisses until John caught his face between his hands to hold him in a real one. It was actually a relief and Rodney spent the next five minutes very carefully peeling the man out of _layers_ of clothes and coaxing him to the bed to try out. And it did alright, for what it was. No more snug than the last few months had been. They had real blankets and no clothes and John stayed with him, no scary trips into his head, no heart attacks or need for apologies.

John fell asleep on him, and that was a little uncomfortable, but Rodney figured out how to calm down. For a few minutes, he was able to hang on to John and wonder if maybe this was the new normal, something much happier and safe and comfortable than the miserable dark place they had been stuck in for months. Rodney hadn't fully expected to get out of the bunker either, but he had kept it as a goal because of John's stupid, stubborn insisting on not wallowing in the muck of it. And lying stretched out, in his own room, with John asleep against him, was a fully acceptable reward for being that stubborn, Rodney thought. It wasn't perfect, they were too messed up, but it was a good place to start from. It was how to get better.

If there were nightmares, they didn't wake either of them up. John was still drowsy the next morning when somebody's radio started buzzing. He was still leaned half on Rodney's chest and reached for the hand-held that kept chirping on the bed stand not far from their ears.

"Sheppard," he grumbled, trying to sound awake and missing. Rodney blinked a little more aware and brushed at the man's messy hair, idle and trying to figure out if he wanted to be awake or not. Something was at the back of his brain telling him that he should, but John was on his chest as a good excuse to ignore it.

"Colonel Sheppard? I'm sorry... I thought this was Dr. McKay's channel," came a voice Rodney only barely recognized. Heightmeyer. _Shit_. John seemed to freeze up. He shifted how he held the radio just enough to check the number taped on the side, swearing quietly.

"Right... One second," said John. And he had that tone in his voice that sounded choked. But he stayed where he was and held the radio for Rodney to take. 

"I missed the appointment," Rodney said as he saw the time on his watch. John nodded and set his head back to Rodney's shoulder, face buried and probably staying that way. 

So Rodney had to check in with Dr. Heightmeyer, as had become the new usual after three days, and the appointment wasn't so much rescheduled as it was held over for him, so he had fifteen minutes to get there. John took over his pillow and buried himself, head and all, under the blankets when Rodney got out of bed. He had stopped talking again. But when Rodney asked if he was staying, the head under the blankets nodded, and he didn't complain a few minutes later when Rodney tugged the covers back to kiss him before walking out the door.

Rodney didn't complain much about the incident when he got to Dr. Heightmeyer's office. It wasn't anybody's fault, it was just annoying. Except for the part where he didn't know how to help John. The man went silent after it, and Rodney complained about _that_ to the shrink. 

"You are not responsible for Colonel Sheppard here, Rodney," the doctor said. Like she knew anything. "He is allowed to do what he needs to do, just as you are. And whatever... Rules you had worked out before for this relationship will need to be reevaluated with that in mind, going forward."

Rodney made a face at that, pulled back a little. "It's not a relationship. It's... Just, like before, only... Not..."

Dr. Heightmeyer frowned at him. "What does that mean?"

"Well, I mean, he's still John. We were still arguing about Batman two weeks ago. But... We were also... I mean..." Rodney frowned back, suddenly realizing there was a problem. "You're American."

"Yes. But I'm not American military," the doctor reminded him. "And everything is confidential."

It all clicked for Rodney. "Wait. I could get him fired. That's why... That's why he reacted. This morning. And when Major Lorne was there..."

"I won't lie to you, Rodney. Whether you call it a relationship or not, the perception of it by others could get the Colonel discharged. It depends on who finds out about it and... Whether or not they choose to officially ignore it," said Dr. Heightmeyer. Rodney shook his head.

"But that's- it's not a thing. If it's about sex, it's a problem, and this isn't sex. We don't- haven't- whatever. John said he doesn't like sex, told me to talk to his ex-wife about it because of it. Said he's not going to break because he was already broke so what they tried wouldn't work, and he's... I mean, we're home, and he's getting better," said Rodney, rambling. "He didn't break. He got in Kolya's face when he had to. He didn't break like they wanted. He'll get better, and he's gotta keep his job. _Here_. They can't let Kolya take his... His career, too."

"Rodney, the Genii Stargate is gone. Kolya won't be able to contact Atlantis again," Heightmeyer pointed out. "What happens now is up to Colonel Sheppard, and, yes, partly yourself. You will need to have a conversation about how he wants to handle his career and the rules that govern that. Because, as I said before, multiple times now, you are not responsible for the Lt. Colonel. And he is not responsible for you."

Rodney argued that, annoyed with the woman, angry with so many things, because he had been responsible, he was responsible still, and he wanted to be part of his friend's life which meant he would continue to be responsible. And he couldn't get Kate to understand. They spent the better part of an hour going back and forth with the same proofs and rationalizations and Rodney's only success was in working himself into a panic at one point that the shrink then had to figure out how to talk him down from, because that was her job. And she tried to steer him away from the topic of John's career because she said that was _forecasting_ and _black and white thinking_ and all that other jargon that meant it wasn't a good or healthy thing for Rodney to do. 

Heightmeyer tried to steer him into the topic of work, but that only reminded Rodney that John had asked if he could be moved back to the science team, like the lab rat for the ATA that he started out the expedition as. 

"You realize, don't you, that these sessions are intended to be about you, right?" Dr. Heightmeyer asked, lightly teasing but more than that, trying to make a point. And Rodney accepted it. But he shook his head anyway. 

"My whole life shrunk down to something about the size of the Colonel about three months ago, so if that's suddenly a problem then that's what you're here for, isn't it," he challenged, a little angry about it. "And if I'm supposed to talk about what I'm worried about then it's going to be him for a while."

"We can talk about what you want to talk about," Dr. Heightmeyer allowed. "But _I_ won't talk about the Colonel."

Rodney felt that shrinks weren't supposed to be rude and stubborn but he just scowled it off and went back to what he wanted to talk about just to spite her. "Why then? Why wouldn't he want to stay as a Lt. Colonel and with his job? We don't have sex, it doesn't matter, so he can keep his job. He doesn't have to come work for the science team."

"That's not how-" Kate seemed to have a rethink and stopped. "Okay. New track. Rodney, if it's not a relationship, as you said, what do you expect of it? What do you get out of it, if you don't get sex?"

"What kind of stupid question is that?" Rodney returned, annoyed. "I get John. He's been my friend since the start, and he's still here. Which is, you know, more than I can say for... A lot, actually..."

"So he would be your friend whether or not you have sex, I'm hearing," replied the doctor.

"I just said that."

"So why do you have this not-a-relationship? You had your friendship before. It's entirely possible this added... Benefit? It could just be a product of your captivity with him, the dependency that Kolya's actions created..." Kate said, the suggestion made carefully to soften the blow. Rodney didn't immediately argue though, because he had certainly already considered it when he was in the bowels of the damn Genii bunker and hating himself for the feelings cluttering up his efforts at working for their meals and John's limited freedoms. 

"No, that's not true." He shook his head and set his jaw as he drummed his fingers against the arm of the chair he was slouched into. "Because he started it. When he was hurt and it was my fault, he tried to help me, and he asked for help, and it wasn't something Kolya did. There was no reason for it, it just happened. It's... More. Because that's how we are. If it weren't for his job, we would have been here before anything happened, anyway." 

"So then you _do_ understand why he's talking now about giving up his career," said Dr. Heightmeyer as she tried to keep up. Rodney shook his head. 

"No, because it's not about sex, I told you," said Rodney. "If it was, we would have had it by now, and it's... Not his thing."

"But it is yours," said the doctor. Rodney scoffed, awkwardly suddenly aware he was talking about sex with a woman who he wasn't _having_ sex _with_. 

"Well, yes, I'm... I'm a healthy adult male and have been for a very long time," he said, stuttering on a few of those words as he shifted in his chair.

"John is also, Rodney. Or he will be, as you said, when he heals from this. Not being interested in sex doesn't mean he isn't healthy. That lack of interest doesn't make a person broken," she pointed out.

"I didn't say he was broken, _he_ said it," Rodney offered quickly, shaking his head.

"Well, admittedly, you just indirectly implied that he was, defining your interest in sex as healthy inferred his was not. And for some, that lack of interest is health-related, or trauma-related, and for others, it's as natural as your interest in having sex. To put it simply, a person can't _make_ themselves find an attraction to someone else. Male or female or otherwise. It's not always about having the perfect parts and the look and the sparkling personality. Sometimes the physical interest just doesn't catch, and that's fine," said Dr. Heightmeyer.

"But he kissed me first," said Rodney, frowning and petulant in his confusion.

" _Intimacy_ isn't just about sex. There is a difference, though it is often overlooked," said the doctor. "People who don't want sex may still want intimacy, still want a partner, or that relationship with someone. People are allowed to be attached and close and even physically intimate with people they don't have sex with, if that's what they agree on, in their relationship. And, in terms of the rules of the military, the physical intimacy is perceived as the problem, and the assumption of sex will follow, whether it is there or not."

"Well, it's stupid, and it's wrong," said Rodney, because he felt rather cornered just then. He really was going to have to talk to John about it, and he had already seen what happened when John was presented with the topic.

"Agreed," said Kate, though it didn't do Rodney or John any good. "But it is something you find yourself now involved in, because it is his job, and your relationship as it is may make you feel responsible for something that is not ultimately your responsibility. So it's important to remind yourself of that. You can communicate your concerns with him, sure. But what the Lt. Colonel chooses to do from here forward is his choice. Not your _fault_. You can't actually get him fired. He has a say in your current expectations of your friendship, doesn't he?"

Rodney frowned as he considered it, and was fully offended by the suggestion that John didn't have a say. "Well, _yes_..."

"Then don't take that from him by saying whatever happens to him is your fault," said the doctor. "He can make his own decisions again. Do the both of you a favor and allow it."

The shrink gave Rodney more to think about than he knew what to do with. He was there for two hours and left feeling scraped up and tired. He had so many questions and so many potential answers and he didn't know which one would be true. Dealing with other people was always hard, and he had for the last two years worked those snags out by complaining to John. And the Colonel would either tell him to stop being bothered by other people being dumb, or he would tell him what to do, or, on occasion, he had gone behind Rodney's back and fixed it. And now Rodney's only way to fix it was to talk to John about... John. About what he was going to do. About what he wanted Rodney to do or not do, help with or stay out of. That kind of a chat wasn't something Rodney knew how to do. But then again, he hadn't known how to talk about John to a shrink, either, and he survived it. 

The _surviving_ part felt a little too real, though, when he walked into his own room and found John Sheppard still exactly where he had left him, sprawled on his stomach under the blankets and reading _War and Peace_. There were red-purple scars and wounds across his back and shoulders over where the blankets had slipped and the question of blame and fault that had seemed so fully settled roared back up, loud. Rodney moved to lay down next to him, arm looped around John's and crossed as a pillow under Rodney's chin so he didn't interfere with the man's reading. John looked down at him as Rodney scanned the contents of page one-hundred-twelve rather than up at him.

"Everything okay?" John asked, suspicious like he knew the answer.

"When do you talk to Heightmeyer?" Rodney asked. John stiffened and shrugged even as he stayed propped up over his elbows to read a book.

"I don't know. Maybe next year some time," he said, aloof and annoying and avoiding anything helpful. Rodney thumped his head on his crossed arms. He was just guessing, but he didn't figure waiting a year for anything would help either of them. But he wasn't exactly solid on arguing about it, either. So he curled against John's arm and read the stupid Russian novel with the man in quiet. And taunted him for reading slow a couple of times. And John eventually thumped him with the book cover and pinned him playfully until Rodney forgot what he had been stressed over needing to talk about, because he was kissing his friend instead, and that was a much happier solution to everything.

* * *

The deal with being let out of the infirmary was that John had to check in every day. Report back to the hospital wing. Take the pills. Do whatever tests the experts said were smart. Out in fifteen minutes, tops. It was as good as a contract and John held Carson to it. He tried not to be cranky about it, at least. 

"Nothing personal," he said, antsy as he waited for Carson to get pictures back from some hybrid Ancient gizmo that did pictures without using radiation and had to translate the images to the milky way technology. "But you've got three minutes, here, doc. Then I'm out and you can make a house call."

"I'm aware, Co- John. But that's three minutes left by the clock, so just sit easy a moment," Carson replied. He still tripped over the title thing, but he tried, and it sure as hell made John feel better. Two minutes later the images processed and John was still in the clear from whatever Genii bullshit might maybe possibly be dogging him silently. He jumped down off the bed and started for the door, but Carson called him back. 

John hesitated but walked backwards rather than stop. "Time's up..."

"I've got a minute and a half, so get yourself back here so I don't have to raise my voice to waste your time," Carson replied. John sighed and walked back.

"Thank you. I'd offer a sticker but it's been so long since I've had children in..." Carson said dryly, meeting John's flat look with one of his own. John held up his new, borrowed watch - his had been melted on some Genii corpse and he didn't want it back - and showed the time.

"Thirty seconds, Carson."

"Dr. Heightmeyer. She says you're avoiding her. You should try _not_ doing that," Carson said. "With the way things are going, if your physical therapy goes well, we will get you back through the 'gate before ye know-"

"I'll figure that out when I get to it," replied John.

"Not without clearance from Dr. Heightmeyer, John," said Carson. "That's what I'm trying to tell ye. I'm not the only one who has to sign off on your return to work. Ye were gone long enough, your state being what it is, the psych evaluation has to happen. For both you and Rodney."

John blinked. "What? Rodney's dragged in to it because of me?"

"Well, yes and no? There's no cutting corners on it. Kate will have to clear him, too. An' if you're set and stubborn about certain things, knowing Rodney, he will be as well," said Carson, waving the confusion off. He was his usual awkward about it, and John felt confused, but at least not so worried that Rodney's job would somehow depend on John passing the evaluations, too. Carson tried again. "But the thing of it is, I think ye need the help, and all the tests and medicines in the world won't make ye feel any better if you're not... Minding the rest."

"I am, doc. I'm going to go _rest_ now. I'm getting plenty of rest, like you ordered," said John. He intentionally pulled the wrong conclusion and smiled as he started back toward the exit. 

"Colonel! I _also_ ordered that you talk to Dr. Heightmeyer," Carson called after him. John winced but kept walking. "Please?"

The whole Heightmeyer thing meant _talking_ , however. And it wasn't likely she would accept his opinions on _War and Peace_ , or the marathon of Dr. Who episodes John had been on for the last four days when he wasn't asleep. Rodney went to his appointments every morning, and he generally did more than enough talking for the both of them, so John figured that should count. The doc could make her notes and whatever reports she had to do and... Well, Rodney was the smart one, he could just take the final quiz at the end for the both of them, and John would stay out of it. 

McKay had already given his report to Caldwell before the Colonel left, even though Carson still hadn’t cleared John to face the same fate. The official paperwork sent back marked John as temporarily disabled, for an assortment of medical reasons, and it would be logged with the SGC and the Air Force, and it would be reassessed in a few months when the Daedalus came back. It was the road to retirement, a year early, and the only one John could wrap his head around even after almost a week home. It was just going to take a few extra steps, like talking to people, that John wasn’t on board with yet.

It wasn't like John didn't know how all of it went. He had ordered soldiers to see the shrink plenty of times. He had been to his share of tune-ups and check-ins before taking the psych evals. He had done a whole year of appointments with the base doc after they pulled him out of Afghanistan; the Brass wanted to make absolutely certain he hadn't had a psychotic break they could blame a busted chopper on, and John had proved himself entirely sane despite their efforts. And he took his smack on the wrist and he went off to play taxi in McMurdo and everything was fine after that.

And when John was sure he could pass the same scrutiny and expect the same outcome, without getting dishonorably discharged this time, he would go see Heightmeyer. In the meantime, she could help Rodney and things would be fine.

They had it worked out that John would meet Rodney and the others for lunch at the mess. That way John didn't have to be escorted anywhere. He had decided he hated that. He knew his way around, and he was fully ambulatory, he could get himself where he needed to go without anyone standing at his shoulder or walking in front of him or behind him. So Sheppard headed for the cafeteria after leaving the infirmary. 

He was nearly there when he was found.

"Colonel Sheppard?" came the female voice from behind him. John instinctively raised his shoulder to block a blow that wasn't coming, and the twitch made him stop in his tracks and mentally swear at himself. The voice wasn’t a nurse and John wasn’t anywhere near a Genii infirmary. Kate Heightmeyer caught up to him, as he figured she would. 

"Funny enough, Carson was just talking about you," said John, scrounging up a polite smile. "I assume he says hi."

"As a matter of fact, he did," replied Dr. Heightmeyer, much more amused than anyone being actively avoided had a right to be. "He said you were headed this way."

"Oh, this isn't an accidental hallway meeting. This is _stalking_ , I get it. Doesn't sound very healthy, doc," John pointed out lightly. Jokes aside, he crossed his arms and prepared to stand some ground. She nodded, not apparently intimidated.

"It really isn't, that's why people generally _keep_ their appointments rather than make their medical team chase them down," she replied. "When we figure out cell phones in the Pegasus Galaxy, I'll be glad to play phone tag, Colonel, but in the meantime, it's in-person instead."

"I'm still on medical leave. I'll be in to see you when I need cleared," said John. Which wasn't going to be any time soon. 

"I have you down for fourteen hundred every day of the week," replied Dr. Heightmeyer. "And that will stay your time until you show up to change it."

Considering it was just past noon and the woman had tracked him down for an appointment time two hours away, John kind of expected her to be pushy about it. But she just left it at that, wished him a good lunch with Rodney, and turned to go back to her office. 

"I'm meeting my team," John said, just to clear up the record. "I _have_ actually been around other people since I've been back. Not just McKay."

John didn't mention it was only for lunch, or that it was only because he didn't trust Rodney to bring him back food he actually wanted to eat and not food Carson conspired to make him eat. Meals counted as being social. Especially because there were always other people there who weren't his team. And that... Took work. Sheppard wasn't used to the attention anymore. Attention wasn't _good_. But he had three others to deflect off of, so he could fake it long enough to eat and then leave. 

"Good, I'm glad, Colonel. That's good for both of you," said the doc. It didn't startle him that time, but it still grated on John's nerves so he risked saying something.

"I'm on leave still," John replied. "So maybe... Less with the rank for a while. Just... Not loud about it, anyway."

"Alright... Sounds like something we can discuss at your appointment, John. You should get to lunch," Heightmeyer said. And John didn't have anything to argue or set straight, so he offered an awkward smile and headed for the mess again.

He fetched his own food and walked out to the deck, where Ronon and Teyla and Rodney had more or less taken over one particular table, like it was high school rules all over again. But for all it had become an amusement, John appreciated it. They left him the spot at the railing, so he could have his back to the ocean, and an entire table between him and any well-wishers glad to see the Lt. Colonel and their Chief Science Officer back in the city. And Ronon was in his new usual spot, guard-dogging Rodney the same way that John used the table and Teyla. 

John stepped around Teyla to get to his waiting chair and made sure to kick Rodney's boot under the table as he settled in beside him. Rodney kicked back in response and glanced at his watch. "What took so long? Carson promised fifteen minutes."

"Carson _also_ ratted me out to Heightmeyer," replied John. "She caught me in the hall."

"Hmm. Which she wouldn't do if you actually spoke with her as you should," Teyla pointed out mildly, a tolerant but no less judgy smile offered up.

"I talk to you guys," muttered John. 

"Yeah, but figuring out what you're actually saying is her job, not ours," said Ronon. "Whatever messed you up, it's stuff we can't help you with. That's her and Beckett for everybody else. You're no different."

Straightening his aching back away from the stupid plastic chair, John made a face at him for the logic. "Fine. I'll just eat in my room then," he replied, only half kidding. Ronon shook his head.

"Sure. I'll just drag your ass back out here. I'm just saying. You're being stupid, and you know it, or you wouldn't be hiding from a lady doc," he said. John stabbed at the salad because it was fresh and crunchy and he could kill it with a fork. Rodney sat by, suspiciously quiet on the matter as Teyla and Ronon low-key ganged up on him about something Rodney had bugged him about every day for a week. 

"Fine," John said. He made a face at his food. "My appointment is in two hours."

Under the table, Rodney's boot caught under John's ankle and dragged his leg that little bit closer. John glanced up at him but Rodney was very focused on shoving his food around his plate. And with that settled, Teyla started in about something Halling had started over on the mainland, some ground-breaking her people had done on a new building. One of her people had spent the last month helping one of the engineers dig through the Database and the result of their eye-opening experience was some kind of plans for a fortifiable space that wasn't reliant on shields and technology. Just clever construction, and the enterprising Athosian had figured out how to make that construction match the skills of their people. 

"When it's further along, I'd like the two of you to go out with me to see it," Teyla said. 

"I can't fly yet," John said, shaking his head once before looking down at his food. Another harmless lettuce leaf was cracked in pieces. "But I'm sure we could get someone to... Ya know. Drive."

"If you're worried about the plans, I can look them over-" Rodney dropped off at the bemused look on Teyla's face. "What?"

"It wasn't an invitation to _work_ , boys," Teyla said. "Merely to witness. My people are peaceful, but we are not _helpless_ , and we learned from the storms last year, and every one since. Now we have the resources to put those lessons into practice. And I thought you might like to see the results."

"Oh..." Rodney hesitated but bobbed his head. "I mean, I guess, sure. We can do that then."

John nodded his agreement with the volunteering of his time that Rodney had so easily done, probably without realizing. He was planning to go anyway. Rodney just wasn't shy about putting words to it in order to make it happen.

“What did Caldwell decide on the Genii stargate?” Ronon asked, looking to Rodney. “Can it go to the Athosians?”

That was the first John had heard of that particular scheme and he stared at Ronon, confused. “We can’t protect the ‘gate there. The iris is controlled with our systems- Anybody could dial in...”

“That’s what Caldwell said.” Rodney nodded as he agreed. “So we have it stored. Below decks for now. We’ll use it for the bridge project. I made good headway on that while I was gone. Sam had to admit my numbers were right.” He preened a little smugly at that, like he used to, and John frowned at his plate. It had been awhile since he had seen that smile.

“Did the Athosians ask for a ‘gate?” John asked, looking over to Teyla.

“It would be helpful, yes,” she replied. “But Halling understood the security risk. It was only a passing mention of it, really.”

“How’d he find out about the Genii gate out on the mainland?” John asked, still feeling slightly bowled over. He felt very much like he was missing too much to ever catch up. Ronon shrugged at him.

“People talk in the city. It gets out to the others within a day,” said the Satedan. He shrugged it off. But John didn’t have such an easy time doing so. If the news of the ‘gate had gotten around, what else was already out there? He glanced over at Rodney, self-conscious and paranoid.

“You said the Daedalus left already anyway, right?” he asked. Rodney nodded. 

“Almost a week ago,” he reported. John took a deep breath and tried to relax. He really just wanted to go back to hiding suddenly, but there was still food on his plate. And the whole idea was to get away from being so damn afraid of everything anyway. He slouched over his plate, taking up a little more space and inching just a little closer to his friends to kill the urge to hide.

* * *


	19. Chapter 19

To be sure the appointment with Heightmeyer went as expected, John had a plan. He would avoid talking as much as possible and run out the clock. It worked with his team every time.

"So. I'm here. What do you know?" John asked the shrink. He stood at the slatted window, opened the shutters as much as he could, and stared out at the water. He very intentionally kept his hands in his pockets. It was something he hadn't been able to do for a couple of months and he had gotten rather attached to the habit now that he could again. 

"I don't know much, really," said Dr. Heightmeyer. "Your mission went wrong and you disappeared for, what was it, eleven weeks, four days, by our records. And you returned injured. And you no longer appreciate being addressed as Colonel Sheppard. So there's a lot of missing information. But this isn't a debrief or report, John. I don't have to know everything."

"You know more than that." John glanced back at her, frown on his face. "Rodney's been talking to you every day since we got back. And I know how he works."

Dr. Heightmeyer shrugged and shook her head. "I know what Rodney has shared with me of his experience. And that is different than yours. And how he recovers is different than your experience will be."

Rolling his eyes, John stepped closer to the window and leaned his shoulder against the post that served as the frame, his nose just inches from the wide blinds as he looked outside. She knew well enough then. And like she said, John didn't have to tell her any kind of report about the trip off world. He didn't have anything to talk about. And so they waited in quiet for entire minutes.

"Well. Can I ask a question?" Heightmeyer finally asked. John nodded. It was a much better plan than waiting on him to talk. Preferably _yes_ or _no_ questions, but he wasn't sure how to suggest that, and he knew better than to assume he’d get them.

"Sure," was all he said. 

"You asked not to be referred to by your rank. That's a title I think you'll find everyone here believes you earned and knows you by. So. Why do you no longer want to be known that way?" she asked.

At least that was an easy one.

"I didn't have it long and I don't get to keep it. So it might as well go away," he replied, shrugging. "I'll get out now before the Daedalus gets back. No discharge that way. So the rank can retire, too."

"Retire? You're, what, thirty-eight years old, Co- John. That's not old enough to retire," said the doctor. She softened the judgement with a smile. John didn't return it.

"The bastard nearly killed me. Nothing works right for me now. I _feel_ like an old man," he replied. "They can't just clean up the blood and stuff it back inside and have everything pick up like it never happened again."

"With treatment and physical therapy, you'll recover. It will take time, but you were healthy at the start-"

"But I didn't stay that way, did I? Didn't even make it through the first day," John cut in, tone harsh as the stress hit. "And now I can't just... Wait it out. If I wait around on it long enough, Caldwell will be back, and I'll get the conversation about priorities matching policies and I either get kicked out dishonorably or I get reassigned. And nobody back at the SGC would answer to me voluntarily."

"All of those are potential scenarios, sure, but nothing you know will happen," Heightmeyer said. "You and Rodney have been friends for months and no one has ever said anything about it that risks your career."

John shook his head, his shoulders sagging from the stress and frustration. "I can't sleep on my own now, so I stay with Rodney. _That_ , people notice. Me and him playing with RCs in the lower levels, nobody cares, but me never leaving his apartment, people start to care about."

"Could you stay with anyone else?"

Surprised by the question, John turned toward the doctor, away from the sunshine at the window to look back at her. "What kinda question- I _know_ Rodney's talked to you-"

"If you're concerned about public opinion, there are ways around that, things you can do, or even different perspectives to approach the issue from, yourself," said the shrink, who Sheppard was slowly beginning to doubt the sanity of. "So what you're suggesting then is that you would rather be done with your career than work out some alternatives in your relationship with Rodney."

"Alternatives-? There'sno _\- Yes_ , that's what I'm saying, then," John replied, frustrated and confused on top of offended. Whatever he and Rodney were working on, there weren't alternatives for any of it. It was _theirs_. He moved back to the chairs where the doc sat, paced in front of the seat he had avoided since he walked in. "Look. My career got me here, and it has nearly gotten me killed more times than I can count, and for the first damn time in over five years I'm tired of the goddamned suicide missions. I want to just... Stay home and stay with Rodney. The pay-off is better than starving and bleeding and getting shot at and everything else."

"So you have a reason not to sacrifice yourself now?" Heightmeyer asked. "And a few months ago, you didn't feel that was so?"

"A few months ago, I thought Rodney was fine without me. And the whole blaze of glory thing sounded as good as anything else. And now I know better, and you can't go out in a blaze of glory when just sitting in the cockpit hurts like hell and you can't see through the pain to fly," said John.

"That sounds remarkably grounded, John," the doctor observed.

"Yeah, well, when you've got nothing better to do than stare into pitch blackness for twelve hours a day, for a _month_ , you get to figure things out to keep sane. And I went through stuff like this before after Afghanistan, and believe it or not, I learned things," he replied. "And I learned things from Teyla that I had to work on, the whole mediation thing came in helpful once I figured it out. And I learned shit from Ronon, about how to try to keep going and heal up. And I had to keep it together to keep Rodney going. Being home after it is just... weird."

The doc nodded briefly but didn't seem to agree. "Rodney is responsible for himself here. The only person you have to keep track of right now is yourself."

"Yeah, well, I don't think the guy who's afraid of the dark should be left in charge of himself, either, let alone anybody else," said John. 

"What's scary about the dark?"

"Either the door doesn't open and everything stays dark. Or it does, and... Things hurt," John replied with a shrug. It sucked, but he was stuck with it.

"So you stay where you are, afraid of both options," said Heightmeyer. John just nodded and looked back at the window. He was tired.

"The good news is, there are things you can do to get over the fear of the dark. Relatively painless, too," said the shrink.

"Yeah, I stay with Rodney," John replied. "Simple. And he's where I want to be, anyway."

"That's one. But you can take care of yourself, too. It's not his or anybody else's job to make your head make sense to you. There are different approaches to try, to get you out of this dark box you find yourself in here. It's a matter of finding the one that works for you," said Heightmeyer. "And that requires patience. And a willingness to try. And if you're stuck for a while anyway, waiting to heal, you'll have the time on your hands, right?"

John stared at the woman, not liking the basic logic just for the fact that he couldn't argue it. Reluctant and annoyed with himself, he finally sat down in the chair. He might have had to do this therapy thing before, but he hadn't walked away from the last problem _afraid of the dark_. He didn't know how to fix something that his brain said he should be done with already, how to tackle a problem that most people - himself included, until a month ago - kicked when they were still kids. Maybe Heightmeyer could get him around the stupid small stuff for now, until he could figure out the rest.

Besides, like she had pointed out, it wasn't like he had anything better to do.

"Fine," John said. "What have ya got?"

* * *

The eventual verdict was that John would survive. His blood work was a mess and Carson had him on a whole battery of pills to get him healthy again, but it just made him feel like an old man with a pill-minder in his pocket. The radiation problem stayed a far-out concern, with no immediate proof that he or Rodney had suffered for the added toxicity of their shared hell. John had been plenty sick, sure, but test after test since he had been home showed they were in the clear. From Carson’s data so far, it was all the mess of torn muscles, wonky blood transfusions, and the added bonus of starvation along the way. Two-months away from massive blood loss didn't mean much recovery happened with all the other shit going on. The wrong blood type mixed in somewhere and all-told, John should have been dead from that mess by itself.

He had wished it a few times, with the depression in the mix, because looking around the city and trying to remember _normal_ overlapped with a few things he really didn't want to remember at all. Daily visits with Carson, every _other_ day visits with a shrink, and all the physical therapy to get his back and arms to be more useful than a wet noodle along with everything else... It was a full time job just recovering and John hadn’t stepped foot in his office once except to retrieve the RC cars. 

And watching Rodney try to get back to work with Zelenka was maybe killing him, because McKay walked around with a look of perpetual confusion on his face now. It thankfully had absolutely nothing to do with John, as far as he knew, but it was still there. And they hadn’t been back on Atlantis for very long, John had only busted out of the infirmary just a little over a week earlier. Rodney wasn't even technically allowed back to work, he just showed up every day and nobody told him he couldn't be there. He said he was trying to catch up on other people's projects and sorting through that mess of emails he had sent himself.

Which was all part and parcel to why Elizabeth had called John in for a chat about the email he had sent her even though he was off on medical leave, dealing with the mess that was his head. The idea of going running again with Ronon or Teyla was a far off pipe-dream according to his PT and Carson's testing, no way anything off-world was happening, and the notion of saying anything to a bunch of Marines that they had to listen to was laughable. No soldier should have to listen to somebody who couldn't sleep without the goddamned bathroom light on. _Work_ wasn't happening and John was just going to have to get on board with that. 

So would Elizabeth. 

"What is this, Colonel?" Weir asked. John was hardly in her office, the doors only just sliding closed, as she pointed at her tablet on the desk in front of her. He thought about giving her shit for it, but she didn't look quite in the mood. John just shrugged and sat down in his old usual spot, slouching very carefully to miss the stripe across his shoulders catching the backrest.

"Pretty much what it says on the tin, 'lizabeth."

She stared back at him, incredulous. "It says it's your resignation."

John waited, glancing around the room to make sure she wasn't expecting someone else to answer that. When no one appeared, he looked back at her with feigned confusion. "Is there a punchline?"

Elizabeth was genuinely not appreciating his efforts at levity and looked... A little distressed, really. She frowned at him, still motioning at random to her tablet, which presumably had his resignation letter still up on the screen. "We just got you back. _You_ just got _back_. There is quite literally no reason for this, from where I'm sitting. You've done nothing wrong-"

"I've done a few things wrong," said John. He probably could have laughed at just how screwed up everything was that she was calling _nothing wrong_. Maybe everyone else was fine ignoring how badly sideways things had gone, like everything would eventually fall back in line, but John didn't exactly see that happening any time soon. It had left damage that wasn't just going to go away, and that had consequences. 

And the rumor mill on Atlantis was absolutely brutal, especially when it came to who was dating who, so some of those consequences couldn't just be kicked under the rug. John was very definitely staying with Rodney. They were involved and John planned to stay that way. Elizabeth and Carson hadn't said anything on the matter, but they both knew. Lorne knew. Heightmeyer knew. The ignoring-of-things wouldn't last very long. It was only a matter of time before it got to Caldwell, either through one of the Marines or just an accidental mention in a briefing update.

"You've been back for two weeks, Colonel," Elizabeth said. "That's not enough time-"

"That's plenty of time to see the writing on the wall. I broke the rules. There's a big one not to mess around with but I did it anyway right off the bat; _Air Force_ Lt. Colonel definitely Don't Kiss the Chief Science Officer in front of their Second in Command," John went on, quieter. "So in the grand scheme of things, after the last few months, I would rather resign than get discharged for the trouble."

"Major Lorne-"

"As I've said, Lorne is a good soldier and I'm not _even_ going to put him in that position. It's shit, but it's still my choice," John said, interrupting firmly on that. Even if he wasn't scared shitless about the idea of being discharged after everything else, he wasn't going to compromise another soldier's career by making him divide loyalties between the laws of his country and the practical inconveniences of life in another galaxy.Especially not that one. _Nope._ Not happening. 

"More than that, how many of those eighty Genii Kolya loved to shove in my face, how many actually needed to be taken out?" John asked. It sucked, it meant Kolya and Cowen had psyched him out, but it was a screw up that weighed on him and wouldn't leave. "Yeah, that's my job, and I had my reasons for doing it, but maybe there were other ways it should have been done. How many did you take out with some bug trying to get us back? Some of those were _kids_..."

"That's... What we have to do out here. Even with the help of the Athosians and others, we're hardly four hundred people against an _entire galaxy_ on our own. We _protect_ our own. However we have to. We _have to_ make that known. And anyone who wants to challenge that can handle the consequences. There is no room for second-chances. As the Genii have now shown us," she replied. And _she_ was the diplomat.

John knew she was right, but the fact that he couldn't get his brain around it was a bigger problem for him when it came down to doing the job. He shook his head. Elizabeth folded her hands and watched him, the frown on her lips tightening up to a line.

"Your military status notwithstanding, it's my choice whether I can accept this resignation or not, John," she reminded him soberly. "And _right now_ , in light of the last few months, I don't feel I can in good conscience."

Really, if John was any good at his job in the first place, he would have seen this coming. He sat forward to argue even as she shook her head at him. "Elizabeth-"

"It will be another two months before the Daedalus is back," Elizabeth said, talking over him. "Until then, _take_ the time. Leave of absence. Do what you need to. We'll revisit this _at that time_. When I am absolutely sure this isn't just the shock."

"I'm not going to change my mind," John said. It was equal parts stubborn warning as fact. Elizabeth shrugged it off. "I didn't go through all this shit just to get hit with a discharge at the end of it."

"Fine, then you can train Major Lorne in what he'll need to know to take over at the point you hand this letter to Colonel Caldwell. In the meantime, your voice and experience are still valued and needed here, and if there's anything that's made that explicitly clear to me, it's the last three months," said Elizabeth. She also, very much, was not budging on the issue. And his attitude was wearing on her. She shrugged off his refusal. "So while you wage your campaign to prove to me otherwise, I'll need you to get with Rodney and Zelenka to figure out how to download the contents of your life experience into Major Lorne's brain so the rest of us can sleep at night. I'm sure it won't be that difficult. He's young."

John blinked at her, surprised by the unexpected joke as much as her assessment that two and a half months without him around proved that he was _necessary_. He kind of figured it proved the opposite. Elizabeth stared back at him, hands folded on the desk in front of her.

"So, Colonel?" she offered. "Leave of absence."

John shrugged. Not-at-work was still _not at work_ , no matter what they wanted to call it. He would put the resignation letter in Caldwell's hand eventually. "Fine."

Elizabeth seemed to breathe a little easier for it. "Thank you. Did you tell Rodney yet?"

The question seemed out of left-field and John frowned at her for it. "What? Why? I don't report to him..."

"That's a _no_ ," said Elizabeth, shaking her head. She pulled the tablet off the stand and turned it to face him so he could see the file information - including the very obvious file name of JSheppardResignation.pdf - displayed plainly across the top. "You should do that before he sees it on the server."

John had written it on his tablet. Which Rodney had hacked two months earlier and done god-knew-what to while it sat without a network. And everything on the tablets saved to the network server if they weren't actively specified. "Oh shit."

"Resignation or not, you should probably get ahead of that," Elizabeth said, far too smug about it. Taking that as his dismissal, John shoved himself out of the chair and left to find Rodney before someone pointed out the filename to him. Someone like Elizabeth, apparently. God, the rumor mill in the city was gonna kill him.

* * *

There had been a betting pool among senior staff on how long it would take Rodney to get back to work. Apparently Zelenka had won. Eight days. There was some kind of math equation drawn up for it, too, and he had it up on the white board the day Rodney walked himself back into the lab and started to clear his desk of the flowers someone had been keeping alive for him. Zelenka made bank, while Rodney piled flowers on a cart to take back to his room because John had taken it to heart when Rodney had told him that humans had to see plant life to thrive, so there were now potted plants on all available shelving. 

"I'm not entirely sure these aren't expected to be returned..." Rodney had pointed out. And John just scoffed and muttered something about _no take-backs_. 

And so it was that the guy with the allergies lived in a semi-dark greenhouse half the day and hid from plants for the other half, in the lab and the control room and a few other technology-only rooms around the central tower. After two weeks back, and still sharing quarters, John probably preferred the plants. He had brought his guitar over and Rodney caught him once plucking strings in the flowers' general direction, though there had been no singing to confirm the intended audience.

So it was unexpected to look up and find John lurking in the doorway of the lab, well before lunch. Particularly considering John still preferred to arrive places on his own rather than risk an escort. As it was, his presence was almost instantly announced by a handful of " _Good morning, Colonel_!" greetings from behind laptop screens and John played it off with a tight smile and his hands in fists in his pants pockets. He looked to Rodney, lingered in the door a little, before finally walking over to him. 

"What's wrong?" Rodney asked, automatic from the look on the man's face.

"Nothing... I just need to borrow you for a minute. 'lizabeth thing," John replied, though he glanced around the room when he tried to blame the director. He caught sight of the tablet next to the laptop. "This yours?"

Rodney nodded as he shut the laptop. John snagged the tablet and tucked it against his side as he turned to lead the way out of the room. They made it down the hall some in quiet as John started messing with the tablet. He managed to unlock it with the biometrics scanner and then narrowed his eyes at Rodney.

"Apparently this is _my_ tablet."

"Possible. I cloned them back in the other lab. Haven't bothered to keep track since we got home," Rodney said. "Now what is this about? Not that it's not lovely to see you, of course, I just-"

Stopping where they were in the hall, John held the tablet up so Rodney could see words on the digital screen. A letter, addressed to Elizabeth Weir was open and readable. A resignation letter.

Rodney had been expecting something to happen along those lines for the last week and a half, but for some reason seeing the words in black and white hurt a little.

"Oh. Right," he managed. He took the tablet back from John and closed the letter once he had scanned it. Nothing said anything about going back to Earth, nothing about _leaving_. Just Sheppard's notice to resign from the military, which would impact his availability for duties for the Atlantis expedition. Rodney didn't like it. But it made sense. He had been planning on something like that. So he switched to another file, double checked the words, and then handed it back to John.

"Check and mate," Rodney said. Sheppard's eyebrows went up and he accepted the tablet back like he expected it to bite him. But he read the file he was presented with. Then he looked back up at Rodney.

"What is this?" he asked, as if he was a moron with no reading comprehension skills.

" _You_ promised you wouldn't leave. And given that the only thing that I believed could make you _break_ that promise was at least _half_ my responsibility, I found a contingency plan to keep you on Atlantis _if_ you chose to leave the Air Force," said Rodney. "You know the way around the labs. The science geeks are mostly afraid of you, or your hair, I have never figured out which, and you know the way around the damn paperwork Elizabeth is constantly expecting me to stay on top of in amongst crises. And that's all not to mention the freakishly high ATA which we regularly need to gain access to certain systems. I think an administrative science department liaison is necessary at this juncture, because I can't otherwise be expected to keep up. I can't put in the hours that I could before and have to prioritize my workload to city operations and the minutia will never get done."

"Admini- This is a _secretary_ , Rodney. You're asking for a secretary." John's lips tugged up in a mildly amused grin. "And you happen to think I would be a good fit for this made-up new job."

"All job titles arise out of necessity," Rodney replied. "And it is _not_ a secretary. I don't want one of those. The bad ones cry."

John let out a surprised laugh and then quickly controlled it. "Don't make your secretaries cry, Rodney. That makes you a bad person."

Rodney raised a hand and flicked his knuckle against John's forehead, right between the eyes for the taunt, and John swatted him away even as he started in with the quiet snickering again.

"If we can keep you here as a secretary, fine, you can be a secretary if that's what you want," Rodney said. "Otherwise we have to go back to the SGC and that would be miserable." 

John's humor fell almost instantly. "Look, I don't know what's going to happen. Elizabeth won't accept the resignation. I'm still on medical leave. It's two months before I can get it to Caldwell. I just... Figured you needed to know. That's... That's my call on this. I'm not going back to work, and I’m getting out before they kick me out."

Rodney nodded acceptance of it but still tapped the tablet screen. "Maybe you don’t have to work for the Air Force, but you're still going to work for Atlantis. I need you here. And you need to _sleep_ , so _I_ have the advantage in this argument."

John smirked at him. "If this is an argument, this is the most civil one _we_ have _ever_ had."

"Well, it helps that I've had two weeks to get used to this newest dumb idea, so if it's what you want to do, fine. I have five more backup plans if Elizabeth doesn't accept this one," Rodney replied.

"What if I had my own backup plans?" John asked, frowning at him.

Rodney waited a beat for the brilliant idea he had apparently skipped over. "Well, what is it then?"

"I didn't say I _had_ one, I just said _what if_ ," John pointed out, grin back in place. Rodney rolled his eyes. 

"This is why I do the thinking. You do the shooting things. MENSA drop-outs don't have the follow-through."

"Ouch! Kick a man while he's down, sure," said John. But he was smiling as he dodged the blow. 

"Or I could kiss him since he's out of the Air Force anyway," Rodney replied. John's smile finally lit his eyes again and he nodded.

"Yes. You _could_ do that."

* * *


	20. Chapter 20

Even when John took himself out for a walk along his old running route, he still caught himself scanning the halls warily for Kolya. Or any olive-drab, ugly uniform. It took him an hour to wander what used to be a fifteen minute run, just because he had to stop and rest every few minutes, breathe through the annoying pain in his back. He just had to build the endurance back up from scratch, no big deal right? 

Over the course of a few weeks, John had gotten good at finding places to sit that he once looked at as good surfaces to have jumped a skateboard on instead. When John mentioned it as a joke to the nurse who was handling his PT, she said the skateboarding would be good for physical therapy, though she told him jumps and kickflips were going to do more damage than it would be worth. 

It was weird having nurses talk to him again with the _expectation_ of him talking back. John had to work hard at remembering their names instead of applying generic labels like 'Thing 1' and 'Minion 2' and defaulting to ignoring whatever was said around him. Two months could reshape habits. It wasn’t great. Especially when they had entire lists of what John could do for exercise that would help heal and another list of movements that would likely add to the damage and hurt worse. John mostly remembered the bullet points.

Walking, _yes_. 

Practice holding balance on a skateboard, _yes._

Twisting, sit ups, pulling heavy things off of tall shelves, _no_. 

Sparring with Teyla or Ronon, or swinging a golf club, _big no._

John didn’t like the lists, which made the task of remembering the nurses’ names that much more difficult. Disgruntled with the state of his life, he left his appointment with the nurse, (which was very definitely _not_ in the infirmary, thank you,) and made his way to the mess to lunch with Rodney. Teyla and Ronon were on the mainland, so it was just the two of them. And a chessboard that took up most of the table. Actual chess this time, not a book with algebraic notations. It threw John a little bit. Just in case he was interrupting a game with someone, John took the chair next to Rodney rather than across from him.

“Hey,” he greeted, trying not to make too much of a scene about balancing his plate and food on the corner of the table left open. 

“You’re late,” Rodney informed him, surprisingly chipper about it. “And losing.”

“Excuse me?” John figured it was beyond redundant to point out that he had just gotten there and bit his tongue to keep from doing so. Rodney pointed out the chess pieces on the board and his other hand briefly lifted a familiar looking notebook from where he held it just off the edge of the table. It was in his hand, thumb marking the page, as he leaned on the table and checked over the board, so John hadn’t seen it until it moved. He frowned. 

“Is that the game book, really?” he asked. Rodney nodded. John reached carefully around to tug it from him and check for himself. He looked over the page Rodney had marked and blinked at the board for a minute. Then he pointed at the book. “Did you just play our game because I wasn’t here?”

“I wanted to make sure I won,” said Rodney, like it was normal. He shrugged. “Visual proof.”

“They’re numbers, Rodney. How do you know who was who? We didn’t keep track,” John pointed out. He was amused but equal parts defensive; John hadn’t actually _lost_ that many games, damn it.

“I know my own handwriting, and yours,” Rodney replied. He snuck the book back out of John’s hand and checked the page before moving another piece and checking over the board. Since he wasn’t needed for playing, John shook his head and carefully slouched over his lunch. 

“How’d you even have it? I didn’t know you kept that thing,” he said, shoving at his salad. “You gave me shit for packing it when we moved.”

Rodney waved it off. “You obviously wanted to keep it, and once I figured out the reactor problem I knew you would have bitched at me if it didn’t make it out. So I put it in my go-bag with the laptop. We lost the new one, though. You had that one.”

"You never said how you rigged that, anyway," said John, glancing up at him again. "The reactor blowing up."

"It didn't blow up."

"I know that. And by now the Genii have got it figured out. But I wanna know what you did to make all those bells and whistles and alarms go off at five in the goddamn morning when we were asleep in another part of the city," said John. He flicked the end of his fork in Rodney's direction. "I _know_ you did it."

Rodney's lips quirked up in a tiny grin when he looked back up at John but it was having a hard time getting through the man's usual discomfort with all things Genii.

"I set it up the day after Lorne stopped by," he said with a shrug. "I showed Ladon how to integrate the computer I built with their old console machines in the reactor lab. Then he spent all afternoon figuring it out, and I just used someone else's computer to adjust their mixing level tolerance a little while everyone else watched him. Took two minutes. The reactor built up to unsafe levels a few days later."

John nearly choked on a bite of chicken. "Unsafe? We really did need to evacuate?"

"Well. It was either going to work, or it wasn't. I wasn't staying there," Rodney said, speaking mostly to the chess board. He compared another move to the book before moving a piece. John watched him a moment before he leaned over and kissed Rodney's jaw. Then, because it was annoying him, he moved a chess piece along the board and traded it out for the captured piece.

"Checkmate," he said mildly. He handed it to Rodney. "Sorry, that was bugging me."

Rodney stared at the board, mouth agape. "That's not how we played it."

John shrugged. "I'm gonna give myself credit for getting as far as I got. Might've let you win that one. I dunno. It was, what, a month ago?"

That earned him a glare that could crack a data crystal. "You _let_ me win?"

"I mean, it's a thing that _might_ have happened before," said Sheppard, carefully innocent. He chomped down on a fork full of salad rather than talk. Looking to emphasize the well-intentioned, guiltlessness of his existence, he waved to Rodney vaguely. "Where's your lunch?"

Rodney clamped his mouth shut and started very determinedly packing up the chess set into the box. 

"Oh come on..." John complained quietly.

"You cheated," said Rodney.

"A month ago? Maybe. We don't _know_ that-" John trailed off as the board was folded up into the box over the pieces and slid aside. Rodney left it there, along with his tablet, and stood up. "Rodney..."

"I'm getting my lunch. I'll be right back," McKay replied. He was definitely still annoyed, though. John slid the game book over and started looking for games where Rodney won, just so that when the man got back, he could prove it hadn't been cheating. At least, not all the time. _Sometimes_ missing a move was an accident, damn it.

John couldn't prove he hadn't ignored the move on purpose, and as early as it was in the book, the argument that he had been in too much pain to follow the games clearly still held some weight. Rodney was still sore at him for it, even though they had come to a truce. They were going to have to play out all the games to find out how many of them John had cheated on, apparently, for science, but John figured he had to expect that. He had lied to the Genii for months and Rodney had noticed, had called him on it, and lying in a chess game wouldn't help. 

But Rodney rambled about Atlantis and Zelenka and some new guy from the Daedalus who was going to get kicked back to Caldwell the second the ship returned. For whatever their normal used to look like, the rest of lunch got pretty close. But when Rodney started to get ready to leave, John mirrored him and stood up when he did. Rodney paused, surprised.

"We're walking?" he asked. John nodded.

"We're walking," he confirmed. "I... I mean, do you have to go back to work yet?"

"No." And whether he was expected or not didn't seem to matter. Rodney took the tray from John and took it back to the kitchen with his own, so John collected the left behind tablet and game box. Rodney went back to complaining about how much the job had changed and how they still weren't used to him being back and how he almost missed it when his Atlantis team was _afraid_ of him. Now they just felt sorry for him and Rodney hadn't figured out how to get back to yelling at them to disabuse them of their sympathies yet. 

Walking with someone still made John a little jumpy, but he managed. And he steered them toward Rodney's room to put things away, but then wished he still had the game box and tablet to carry as that extra layer of separation from memory as they walked down the hall. Rodney saw him check the hall at a corner and caught his hand. It surprised John and he blinked down at them to process. But it grounded him and he smiled and tugged Rodney a step closer for it as they walked.

They ended up out on the pier, shoulder to shoulder, and John stared down at ocean waves as he kicked his heels off the side of the ship. It had been awhile. He fidgeted and had to keep reminding himself to breathe from the weird little panic that came from seeing and experiencing a place he had daydreamed of but not figured on ever seeing again. 

"Back on the pier, huh?" Rodney observed. "Is this a random happenstance or a planned excursion?"

"Had an idea. So I went with it," John replied with a shrug. He glanced over at Rodney because he felt him watching, saw that confused scrunch to his brow. "What?"

"I don't know, this was _your_ idea," replied McKay. "The middle of the day. The pier. Where it's sunny out. And hot. And I should mention, neither of us have sunscreen. Which sounds like some idle, paranoid concern, but it really isn't anymore."

John took the point, frowning. "We can go back. It just seemed like it..."

"It's nice," Rodney said. "Just very... Random."

That was true, too. John didn't have an answer that made sense for him.

"Look, I know there was a moratorium placed on this question, but - are you okay?" Rodney asked. John scrunched his nose and squinted down at the water. For almost a month now, Carson and Heightmeyer had asked some form of that question on a regular basis. The answer was still that he was _better_ , he was _fine_ , and that was at least not a report on his back or whether or not he was bleeding from it. John didn't mind the question so much anymore, he just didn't see how it was useful; nobody could fix it for him and he was stuck with it, whatever the answer was. Still, Rodney asked, so John shrugged and nodded. He glanced over at Rodney.

"Are you okay?" he asked. Rodney replied with a lopsided smile.

"Depends on the definition. I made the mistake of thanking Zelenka for helping with something this morning and I thought the man was going to either start crying or have a heart attack. So that's simultaneously _new_ and never going to happen again, and I will be bringing it up with Heightmeyer because, did I mention that's _never_ happening again..."

John grinned at him for it. "Or, you know, you could ease him into it... Say it more often and you both get used to it."

"If they stop failing eleventh level math problems, sure. Nothing would bring me more joy than to work with people consistently competent enough to give daily thanks to them for doing more than existing in my lab," said Rodney. He shut his mouth then, seeming to realize what he said. It hung there and he backpedaled. "I mean, I didn't thank him _just_ for breathing air in my lab. I don't think. He had taken care of- crap."

Rather than make Rodney's current annoyance worse, John turned his attention back down to the water. "Maybe he's just... having an off day."

"Maybe _I'm_ having one of those," said Rodney, and he scratched at the scruff on his chin. 

Rodney wasn't aiming for the mad scientist look anymore; he shaved every day, knew exactly where he kept his hair brush before he left in the morning. He had shoved himself into a routine back on Atlantis so hard, from his appearance and clean clothes to his schedule; the exact opposite of what John had done. Rodney was good at keeping time lately, with his appointments in the morning, and lunch in the mess hall, and probably breakfast there too, because there was no food allowed in his room anymore. John was expected to show up, not because he had been told to but because he had been invited, so he would show up when he remembered to look at his watch and kick himself for not showing up on time. 

It was a little surreal when compared to the chaotic way things had been the last two years. But Atlantis had been under a semi-weekly state of threat for most of that, too. Maybe the organized-chaos of McKay was the one that didn't live under deadlines and threats of imminent death. Or maybe this was all just Rodney _now_. John frowned at the water again.

"Not to add to it, but I've got a question," he said, careful because he didn't know how to begin with the question kicking around in his head. 

"Right. Then shoot," replied Rodney. He seemed braced for it like he half expected a gun to get involved and John made a face as he realized he had screwed up, put himself in a corner by announcing the question. There was no saving it now.

"The... The thing with the reactor. From before. Blowing stuff up. That's... Not the default response to not getting laid, right?"

The question landed hard and Rodney actually stared at him for a few seconds with his mouth hanging open. _Bewildered_ was a good word for his face just then. Then his hands started trying to talk for him, and his brain slowly seemed to catch up.

"I'm - _what-_ can you- can you take that one back a step? I don't think I follow," he finally managed. John caught Rodney's hand to keep him from flailing himself off the pier by accident, the tether mostly just for John's peace of mind than any real threat.

"The first time you started talking about blowing up a reactor and damn the consequences, it was kind of, maybe a little bit, because I started stuff I couldn't finish. And then the second time, we got to the surface on an evac notice because you didn't go _talking_ about blowing up the reactor and you actually just... Set the timer on it," John said, explaining as considerately as he could given that his voice kept threatening to stop working. 

It was always windy on the piers, always noisey from the waves and the city, but it had gone oddly quiet since John had said anything and he could clearly hear his own voice roughly suggesting the insane notion that Rodney _blew up cities_ when he got frustrated. But it was still in front of John's mind as the start of a pattern and he had to get a few things sorted out. They just happened to involve Rodney, and it meant he had to say the stupid things _out loud_. Rodney seemed to deflate a little but he still held John's hand, fingers threaded tight, so he was... At least humoring him.

"I mean, a few days before each of those things happened, we were making out, we were good, and then suddenly I _wasn't_. And I mean, we can't exactly risk sorting through my... hangups if the pattern is going to start showing up on Atlantis," said John, shaking his head. "You can't blow up the city, just... You know, for the record."

"Oh, I _can_ , for the record, and I'd rarely considered it until _now_ ," Rodney replied. And _that_ was definitely his angry voice. "I told you, it wasn't- _okay_ , I said _maybe_ a little, but now we're _home_ , damn it!" He tugged their hands down to thump the heel of his hand against the stone-like surface of the pier under them. "And I _told you-_ okay, so I didn't tell you. I told Heightmeyer. Sorry. But the point is, I don't care if we're not screwing like rabbits, or if I go to sleep harder than I wake up. You're still with me the whole time, and if it works for you, it works for me. I'm not going to blow up Atlantis because I'm not getting laid. Jeezus, John. _Come on_."

"Maybe not _now_ , but when you're back to normal and I'm still... Still _me_ , I guess. Then what? You're still going to be fine just making out until I fall asleep? Even my wife got tired of that," John replied. He raised his tone to match Rodney's but they weren't yelling at each other.

"At this point, I've known you longer than your wife did," Rodney argued, his chin up in a familiar defiance that John could have kissed him for. "And I don't care if you fall asleep on me, because you're _right there_. I get to be with you, I thought that's how that worked."

"It is, but you're going to get sick of it," said John. "And then what do we do?"

"You don't tell me what to do," Rodney reminded him. "And definitely not about that."

Aside from the unconscious parroting of Kolya, Rodney had a point. And it was one he had run into with Heightmeyer the day before. Just because others had gotten pushy about sex, about wanting something from John that he couldn't easily offer up, didn't mean that Rodney would. And insisting that he would or wouldn't do something only accomplished trying to take the choice from Rodney to behave how he wanted to.

John couldn't tell him what to do, but he knew how the story was going to go. "So _what if,_ though, huh? What if I don't sort this out? You're happy never having sex again?"

Rodney still didn't lie well, and there was a noticeable hesitation before he nodded. "That's how this works. How you work. So. Yes." 

Considering the determined set to Rodney's expression, John nodded. He looked down at where Rodney still had hold of his hand, resting between them against the pier. Quiet sat between them, among the constant rush of the wind and tides below them. 

"I don't say things I don't mean," Rodney pointed out, his usual matter-of-fact, like the silence was some kind of judgement. Still a little hangdog about the whole conversation and the contents of his thoughts that demanded it, John was quick to nod his head at that.

"I know you don't," he said. "And just... You know, so you know. It's statistically likely that the whole getting laid thing _could_ happen. It's just... Not always going to work out how you want it to."

"I don't care."

"You say that _now_. But when you do care... You'll care," John said. He had already been down that road too many times to pretend it wouldn't. "And then it's just as shitty that we're doing something _you_ don't like because of something I just... _Don't get_."

"So?" Rodney said in challenge. 

Calling his bluff, John stared at him, eyebrow raised and lips a tight line to avoid frowning at him. "It'll be fine if we call this what it is, and you aren't getting laid?"

Rodney stumbled a little as the rest of what John said made it through. "What are we calling what, now?"

"This. Us. Me, never leaving your place," said John. "There's words for that. Words that aren't _Sheppard's afraid of the dark so he needs a babysitter_."

"I call it _us_ ," said Rodney. "You and me and... We do what we've always done. Just... Better."

John smiled at him for that, really wanted to kiss him, but didn't want to screw things up worse. "Yeah. That."

"The whole _involved_ thing. It's a relationship. If we had somewhere to go, it's dating. It's a... All that. Really, it's what we've been doing since we got here."

"RCs count. We _go_ somewhere for that," said John. "And we used to go off world all the time."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "With Teyla and Ronon."

"So? Double-date. Better."

"It's also our job."

John shrugged at the logic. "I apparently had no problems with multitasking."

"Right. Just don't tell the Air Force," replied Rodney. John smirked at the water.

"No _telling_ until my resignation goes through," he said, a correction rather than an argument. John had no doubt there was already plenty of chatter on the subject that would make telling the chain of command redundant, he just hoped to get ahead of it. Rodney's amusement visibly faded from his whole person as he sat beside John.

"You're sure that's what you want? That's your whole career," Rodney said. "I'm just... If we had it before... What's the difference? You shouldn't have to just give it up."

"I didn't have it before," John said. He shook his head to dismiss it. Lifted their hands to kiss the back of Rodney's. "Not this. And trying to keep my job means putting it back the way it was. I can't figure out how to do that. Or why."

Pulling his hand carefully back, Rodney brought his legs up over the edge again and sat cross-legged to face him, his genius brain putting together all of the ideas and his mouth seconds from sharing them. John watched him, saw the wheels turning, and, with a flash of a grin, managed to start talking before Rodney could.

"Rodney. Listen, okay? Last time, I came back from being locked up by the bad guys, I just fell right back in line. Back to the job, the life. I got in trouble for it and just kept going. It didn't matter, it was just the job. I can't here. This time it's all different," he said, covering territory that they had at least talked a little about before. He had told stories of Afghanistan, in broad strokes, when he tried to keep himself awake before, and he knew Rodney hadn't been asleep for _all_ of them. Still, John shrugged and swallowed against the fearful tightening in his throat to keep his voice louder than the waves.

"Yeah, I know my job, and maybe if I can get my shoulder working again, maybe I could go back to it. But there's no damn point in risking my neck for a home I can't have. I only have one neck to lose. And if I have to just... Shove this stuff in a box again, go back to how we had it before, like we aren't _us_ , after this it's not worth it."

He hadn't been trying to do anything other than make himself understood for once, but he had done _something_. Rodney stared at him, sober and searching, and held his gaze without even blinking. It was probably a good thing that he had moved away from the pier's edge when he faced John, too. Rodney caught at John's jacket shoulder and pulled, careful not to mess with his back by making him twist, but getting him to lean just enough. They met halfway in a thorough kiss, even as Rodney still moved closer until he had John wrapped in a hug to go with it. He just tucked his knee and stretched the other leg out behind John and made himself into a Rodney-shaped wall between John and the city. He pulled back from the kiss only enough to breathe and he still stayed close, their foreheads bumped together almost playful.

"So I'm a little attached, is what I'm saying," John said after a minute. "I was _before_. I'm good with whatever lets me stay that way. As long as I don't accidentally blow up the city to do it, 'cause I'm not sure I'd catch on in time."

"You wouldn't, because you're the idiot who-”

“Yeah, whatever. I dropped out of MENSA," John interrupted, amused despite himself. “Get over it.”

“Maybe. Later,” Rodney decided. But he caught his face for another kiss. John was pretty sure it was just to shut him up that time. But the pair stayed out on the pier for an hour after that, making out, making up for months of missed chances.

* * *

Their bed was still just a little bit too small for two full grown adults. Shoulder to shoulder would inevitably leave one of them hugging the edge a little close. But it was bigger than John’s. Ronon had offered to move John’s bed to Rodney’s room but there wasn’t really any way to do that without half of Atlantis talking about it within the hour, so John stalled on accepting it, and the room still only had one bed. Rodney preferred to sleep on his stomach, and he could do that crammed into John's space with an arm over John's waist and his head on the man's chest. And when the Colonel's back was bothering him, spooning was a perfectly acceptable solution for the both of them. Rodney woke up with morning wood no matter what he did, and spooning he could tell John was no different on that score.

John’s paranoid insistence that Rodney was going to blow up the city out of frustration or spite still left Rodney thinking way too much about the other man's whole... situation. John was healthy enough, still healing, and had gotten better at letting Rodney know where he could be touched or not to avoid triggering painful memories that he couldn't get his head out of very easily. He didn't always use _words_ , but John figured out how to _communicate_. Other times he dragged out words to just put it in Rodney's face that he was some kind of broken, when he very obviously wasn't, as far as Rodney had experienced so far. They could get pretty involved, so _close_ sometimes, before John would back off. It wasn't like flipping a switch unless a memory got triggered. It was more like a cool-down. And it could get pretty abrupt other times, too. And Rodney could keep up. 

It wasn't like John didn't know what to do, or that he was afraid of it or something. Twice in the nearly two months that they had been home, the man had gotten hot and bothered enough to stick his hand down Rodney's pants and could deliver the best handjob Rodney had ever experienced in his adult life. But he had no interest in the favor being returned, and generally just wanted kisses and touch and everything _else_.

It bothered Rodney when he realized he could receive but not give, when sex was, to him, about _both_. He wanted to see what got John going, wanted to make him feel good and send him right over the edge. After months of seeing John in pain, Rodney wanted few things more than to see him blissed out, aside from maybe the ego boost of being the cause of it. 

There was a worry there for him that, despite what John said, the problem was still Rodney, that somehow maybe John just didn't want that from him. Maybe he looked funny or wasn't his type or some other insurmountable very _Rodney-McKay_ problem. And because Rodney was Rodney, he actually had to put words to it, once it got in his head.

"Where the hell did that come from?" John frowned at him and levered up on an elbow to stare down at him as soon as the question was out of Rodney's mouth. He poked a finger at the bruise-colored skin at Rodney's collarbone. "I just spent the last however long putting that right there. On _you_. Quite happily, I might add."

"I'm referring to the wonderful world of _orgasms_ , John. A different sort of _happy_ , really," replied Rodney.

John scrunched his nose and shrugged. "I guess," he allowed. "But you don't have to. I like this sort, too." 

His fingers tapped over Rodney's skin and it was warm and heavy and anchoring. And he was looking at Rodney, hazel eyes wandering all over, not at all unhappy about what he was looking at apparently. Rodney rubbed at the arm lined up along his, careful of the shoulder. 

"I'm not saying I _have_ to do anything," said Rodney. "Just... I would. Really, I... well, I would _want_ to, if you wanted to, you know, actually get off for once, too."

"If you think I _don't_ get off on this, I got some bad news for you, buddy," said John, at least a little bit of a grin on his face. Rodney frowned at him for it, and John broke into an embarrassed smile. "On a related note, never take a blacklight to the shower."

"Then can I sneak in on the next one and help?" Rodney asked. They had talked about this, and maybe John had been partly right, but it wasn't a bad thing, to want to help out, right? That wasn't the same thing at all. And he tried not to pout about it, he really did, but he must have failed because John's hand left his chest to instead start smoothing at his temple and down his jaw.

"I guess, sure," said John. And he leaned down to kiss him again and led the way as they went another round.

But Rodney didn't have to wait to sneak into the shower. He moved when and where John wanted him to and was soon enough exactly where he wanted to be as his partner came apart with a tremble and a groan and a smile as they rocked their hips together. They were both messy and happy and Rodney would remember the expression on John's face for months if he had to. It was so very different than the pain Rodney had seen him in, every day for months. John relaxed, showered him in kisses after that, and spooned up behind him when they finally slept. 

After that night, though, there was no real difference in how they fooled around. John still would back off if he thought making out and messing around was going to be annoying for Rodney if it didn't lead up to more. But Rodney didn't have the worry in his head anymore that he was just somehow not _enough_ of whatever John was looking for. He had seen John share when he felt he could, had seen him actually enjoy the physical closeness of sex, and seen him enjoy everything _else_ just as much. If not _more_. 

Rodney knew where all the scars were now, too. Some of them he could help with. If John wasn't wearing the soft wristband or a watch to hide them, Rodney would catch it under his palm, a stupid belated effort at protection that John was amused by. Others, John would hold his hand over, keep it at his shoulder or his hip when they were curled up together. They were under no delusion that it would cause any actual healing, but it was what John wanted, and he said it helped hold off pain when he hurt.

There was a lot _more_ than sex going on when John Sheppard got any kind of naked in Rodney's bed. And as they got further away from their time underground with the Genii, and Rodney remembered how to take a full breath of air without worrying about radiation levels and shitty doctors and where John's next meal was coming from, the habit of everything from _before_ started to wear off. 

But John was still there, kicking around Rodney's room, in his space one way or another. Watching movies, brazenly cruising on a skateboard down hallways when they went anywhere with the team, crashing a remote control car into his boots on purpose, kicking his ass at chess and _refusing_ to apologize for it because Rodney caught him cheating at it once in the game book. Someday he would go back and check the rest of the games to figure out the actual total. But in the meantime, Rodney spent more time than ever with John, around work and the rest of their team, and instead of that saturation dulling it, instead of a shorter fuse or exhaustion, he finally maybe slowly started to _get it_. 

Sheppard had a hundred different faces and he could cycle through any of them depending on who they were with, but Rodney started to see that some of them only came out when they were together, alone. Some only when Rodney had his hands on him, or in between kisses. And they held as much _oomph_ as any orgasm could get out of the man, even if Rodney had only ever seen it once. John didn't _need_ the sex to get the touch-high of sex. He didn't want it. Which, Rodney realized, the idiot had tried to tell him, they just weren't either one of them great at using _words_ about things an Air Force Lt. Colonel wasn't supposed to be doing with other men to start with.

It was all very different than any relationship Rodney had ever had before. Sex was always _the_ thing they were there for. In the days before Atlantis, Rodney spent money on the dates. They had a good time. They made out. They had sex. It was the natural progression of things, with the occasional cuddle tossed in, depending on who he was with. That was what they wanted, it was what was expected. 

It was a social habit built in to being in a _relationship_. It came with other stuff, too. There had been annoying phone calls, where he had to pretend to care about someone's day, just to get to the point where he could ask about dinner and loop the cycle over again. He was supposed to do it, got in trouble if he didn't, really. A lot of those hallmarks had followed him to Atlantis; he couldn't take a date to the movies or anywhere more interesting than the mess hall, but the patterns were the same. It was what was expected, so Rodney did his best to keep up, and he enjoyed it when he got it right.

Rodney liked their faces, mostly had to like their brains or he wouldn't get through dinner, but his usual type, the blondes and the redheads, with or without the rack and the curves, didn't command his attention the way John had been able to from the start. And sex had never been a part of that with him, aside from Rodney going home and jerking off in the shower after close calls and off-world visits that maxed out his anxiety and stress limits and had to be worked through. He had never needed another human for that, anyway. It was tension. He knew how to take care of it himself. Always had, always would, whether he had a partner or not.

And that was the startling thing. That distinction between stress relief and habit, and what he got from being with John. They weren't the same. He could do without one, but very much not the other. Maybe Rodney looked around at pretty faces and hot bodies, but he hadn't really ever chased after them. None of his lines ever seemed to work, anyway. He always had better things to do, unless someone dropped in his lap. Convenience played a larger role in Rodney's love life than anything else, really. 

Sheppard had never exactly been convenient. Rodney had _worked_ to get the man on _his_ team back in Antarctica; stealing him from the military for months was no easy task. And Atlantis itself was hardly a walk in the park, even now with Rodney at a reduced duty and still putting out fires _and_ making time for John. Hell, Rodney had signed up to go out to other planets with the man just to keep his attention. Rodney, with his allergies and his phobias and his preference for places that _weren't_ humid and smelly. He followed John into these places, willingly, with no expectations other than that he would be allowed to bitch about it when everything was miserable. They had always spent the time, no strings or sex attached, and Rodney had never had to pay for dinner to keep his company. That was them, and they worked for that.

 _Oh_.

After puzzling through things nearly every day since his return, different things Heightmeyer and John had both told him finally made some kind of sense once Rodney started to feel his life get back to normal. Intimacy wasn't just sex, and there was more to be shared than spit and sweat. And _that_ was where he had found himself with John. It had just taken them both a few months of trauma to sort out. Rodney wasn't a genius at _everything_ , damn it.

It bugged the hell out of him for a few hours before he finally resolved to ask about it. He left his shift and tracked John down at the big hall in one of the outskirt spire buildings that they powered just enough to use as a long-range shooting range. John wasn't medically cleared for much heavy lifting, but his physical therapy had him trying things in rounds. Apparently Rodney had chosen to finally put together pieces of a puzzle John had spent months laying out on the same day John's rounds had him skateboard a mile away from home.

He found the man at the marines' make-shift firing line, glaring at the handgun and headgear on the narrow table in front of him and hugging his problem-shoulder. It wasn't a surprise that the long room was otherwise empty; even shooting was PT for John, and he didn't go around happily sharing what he saw as shortcomings, especially not with anybody military. McKay didn't enter quietly, just to be sure he didn't startle him.

"You okay?" Rodney asked, nodding to the frustrated massage John was trying to work into the recovering muscles. John looked over at him, his nose scrunched up, before checking that he still had the room. Satisfied nobody was around, John shook his head.

"Bastard gets heavy. It's stupid," he complained, jerking his chin toward the gun. "It fucks with my head, you know? Try going from a marksman to someone who can't hold the gun up long enough to line up more than a few shots."

Still, he unfolded and stretched his back a little as Rodney approached. He shrugged it off and watched Rodney, stole a kiss when he was close enough. "What the hell are you doing out here?"

Rodney frowned at him. "Why didn't you tell me I screwed up?"

There was a brief flash of surprise and then a smug grin. "You're gonna have to narrow that down a little, McKay. Screwed what up?"

"Last week. When I asked about the shower," Rodney said. The teasing grin faded away instantly. John shifted to lean against the table, crossed his arms again to knead at his shoulder.

"You didn't," said John. "You wanted to, so I tried to keep up. I thought it was great. You didn't screw _anything_ up."

"But I shouldn't have-" Rodney trailed off, flailing a little as the afternoon's realization got a little too close to the surface when he nearly voiced it out loud.

John frowned at him. "What?"

Rodney waved a hand, trying to get the words to roll out with the movement, but now for some reason he had caught John's inability to talk without his throat closing off air. 

"You said... Before. You said it's no different than Kolya," Rodney began, but John seemed to catch his meaning then and the confused frown was replaced by alarm.

"No, no no no," he said quickly and reached to catch Rodney's hand. "Not the same. Not what I meant."

"Then please clarify because I finally figured it out, only to feel like... I don't even know what this feels like, just that I am... Not okay with it," Rodney replied. He had spent half the afternoon stuck in his head, back in a radioactive bunker, afraid to get John hurt again if he snapped at Zelenka, before he gave up and left. And then John was scooting back on the table to sit more than lean and pull Rodney close enough to stand between his shoes. 

"I told you, I just don't get it... I get kissing and touching, but not everything else. Sex is just... It's weird, okay? I can keep up with the physical side of it, I've been around enough. There's stuff that's fun, and there's other parts that's weird," he said. He kept his eyes on Rodney's face and had wound their fingers together. "So when you say you want to do something, _great_ , I want to do what you want to do. But that's _why_ I want to. That's what I was focused on, just you, and that time it worked. Other times, once I get weird on it, no matter how much I want to get you there, it won't always _work_. I just don't know when things get weird until I'm already there, and I think it's pretty shitty to leave you hanging once I get you going."

"You're not hurting me, damn it," Rodney cut in. John lifted a hand to rest at the back of Rodney's neck and pulled him close to bump foreheads. Rodney stared down at him from inches away.

"You didn't hurt me, Rodney. Okay?" he asked, quiet. "Believe it or not, we both got what we wanted. That was the idea, right?"

Rodney managed a nod.

"Okay, good. Look, I _wish_ I was normal with this stuff, because this always happens. I'm supposed to be normal, everybody just expects it, and I can't. I'm shit at explaining it, and nobody gets it," said John. Rodney caught his shirt and tugged at him, swaying back enough to not be eye to eye with the man. John dropped his hands to Rodney's hips though rather than let him step away.

"No, I get it," he said, talking over him. 

"Not if you're thinking you hurt me with a mutual handjob," replied John. Rodney shook his head and tried to get his voice to cooperate.

"It's- okay, it's like deserts in the mess, right?" he said, and John looked at him like he had lost his mind. Rodney ignored him. "You're going to grab the pudding cups every time it's there. But if you see the jello, you grab that instead and you stick it in front of me and I get your ration. It's not like you're bringing me the lemon custard. _You_ don't even eat things with citrus anymore. But the jello’s only there because you think I want it."

John's expression went carefully blank as he mulled it over. "Okay... I think I follow... And sometimes I grab the jello because it's the only desert there and I'll just eat it myself. Usually because one or the other of us is being an ass, but that's beside the point. Fact is, I like the pudding, but sometimes I want the damn jello on my plate, even if you're not there and it just sits there."

Rodney nodded, feeling proud of himself for an explanation that worked. "See. I get it."

John was at least amused by that. "Can we stop talking about jello now?"

“In a minute,” said Rodney, waving it off. “I think, I need you to know something here. I think maybe it’s making things complicated and confusing and, while I think we’re good at that, it doesn’t have to be happening-”

“ _Rodney_. Point?” John waved a hand impatiently to roll it along.

“I don’t need the damn jello. So you can stop serving it up when it’s not already on your tray,” said Rodney. John raised an eyebrow at him in an excellent impression of Teyla, but Rodney just nodded. “I mean it. It’s nice when it’s there, but I’m only in it for you, anyway. And I’ve figured out there’s other ways we get there. Both of us. Not just you.”

John stared at him, looking very confused. "What- wait, say that again?"

"I actually didn't stutter-" The sass got him glared at, John's lips pouting and his cheeks puffy, and Rodney smirked at it but got back on track. "I mean it. There's a difference between doing something out of habit and doing it because I want it. That counts for sex, too. It's not as high on my priority list as you think it is."

There was a moment of quiet as John tried to sort it all out. "But you didn't say anything- I mean, you're you. You _always_ say something-"

"Well, I did say things, just not to you," replied Rodney. "It's... This idea goes against a lot of stuff I thought I knew about me. You're not the only one still figuring things out. You know there's a word for it, right? I've been talking to Heightmeyer about this stuff for weeks."

Reluctantly, John shook his head, watching Rodney like he wasn't real. "So, what's this mean?"

"It means maybe you're not the only one who isn't in it for the sex, two asexual people can still mess around, and maybe we can figure out how to do this. As long as I remember your stuff has nothing to do with me, and _you_ remember that we can fool around all we want, and that I'm capable of taking care of myself. Without you getting paranoid about starting something you won't finish. Nothing says you have to. Is what I'm saying."

"That's a _you_ thing, not a _Heightmeyer_ thing?" John asked, looking hopeful but no less skeptical. He tugged at Rodney's hips, suggestive of his meaning. " _All_ of you is on board with that?"

"Since when do words come out of my mouth that I do not explicitly mean every syllable of?" Rodney rolled his eyes. Again with the pout and John nodded, accepted it with a lowering of his eyes. 

"Right." He fussed with the shirt hem at his fingers before looking back up at Rodney. "So it means we're good? And you're good, and no more thinking you screwed up something I did?"

“That’s the working theory,” replied Rodney. 

“Working theory,” said John with a slight _hmm_ about it. “So since we’re good, and you’re all the way out here, can I put you to work?”

He had slouched where he sat on the table so Rodney looked slightly over John’s head and around at the room. There wasn’t much technology in the shooting range that should require his attention, just four walls and a mountain of dirt, debris, and the equivalent of hay bales to make a target wall. “Work at what?”

John directed his attention to the handgun forgotten on the table beside him. “Shooting practice. If I can’t aim worth a damn, maybe I can at least make you look good.”

The tease hid an honest request, but Rodney still glared at him for it. 

“I can shoot fine.”

“Sure. For a blind man,” replied John on a laugh. Rodney kneed him in the thigh, just enough retaliation to make John dodge back, before stepping to the side to collect the gun and prove him wrong. 

* * *


	21. Chapter 21

“I thought you said this would be a _milk run_ , Major?" Sheppard stared out at a view that was strangely familiar and he felt numb to it. Weird. Very weird. At least this place didn't have the technology for cameras yet. Give them a few decades though and it would be another story. 

The bars were solid, mounted in something close enough to concrete that he wasn't going to argue with them. John had been back on regular MREs and mess hall food for a little over three weeks and he was strong enough to go jogging, but not strong enough to do more than scratch at stone walls. Being surrounded by Marines twice his weight class didn't really change his team's odds of survival on this one. 

"Well, they seemed to like us last time," Lorne offered. He sounded appropriately disappointed in himself so John figured the Major had sorted that out for himself, too.

"Define _like_ ," said Rodney. In some other universe, John knew, that was Rodney's version of cheerful.

"Yes, that's an important word," he chimed in. Obviously this was basic recon he should have done before agreeing to this trial mission. Just because Carson said he would allow it didn't mean John should have accepted it _._ " _Like_ as in willing to trade, or _like_ as in thought we'd be tasty with some tava beans and a nice Chianti?"

Lorne winced. "I'm beginning to suspect the latter, sir."

"Oh my God. I'm gonna die." Rodney thudded his head gingerly against the bars behind him. John didn't like it but didn't say anything about it. He glanced over at Lorne as he started digging into the false-pocket he had ripped into the flap of his new tac vest a few weeks earlier. Back when he was planning on never using it ever again for anything other than fishing gear and PowerBars. Now it had some C4 and some skipping rocks and trash the guards hadn't thought important enough to remove from the pockets. John found the skeleton key and the tiny lock-pick set folded up under the Velcro flap and snuck them out. 

"Just... for the record?" he said, catching Lorne's eye. " _You're_ not allowed as first contact, Major. You're too nice."

The Major was paying attention but his eyes started searching the room beyond their cell. "Director Weir said to emphasize diplomacy-"

John pried at the chain holding the door closed, ignoring the queasy pangs just touching the chain caused as he turned the lock to where he could reach it inside. He had the Genii's skeleton key and used it to get the first tumblers before adding in a pick to angle the rest. His team was watching the door so he could focus on the lock.

"Lesson one on politics in Pegasus _,"_ he said, distracted. He tugged at the lock in his hands. " _This_ isn't a diplomatic envoy. Don't confuse the two. Ever again."

Lorne nodded solemnly. "Got it, sir."

The lock fell open and John caught it before it fell off. He looped the chain around the door and locked it in place on the gate so from the outside it looked like it was still locked. That felt a lot better and he got up to a crouch, ready to move. Lorne and Rodney started to stand and he waved them back down. Sheppard looked to Ronon.

"Ronon. Got any pointy-things left?" he asked. The Satedan nodded and stepped away from the wall he had been propping up next to where Teyla and Rodney sat.

"A few, actually," he said with that sly grin John had come to count on. He almost smiled and pulled himself up to stand. He waved Ronon over and started to step out.

"Good. You're with me. The rest of you stay here. Wait for the signal."

Rodney wasn't settled with that plan. And he just didn't have to listen. "Wait-"

" _Stay_ with Teyla and Lorne, Rodney," John ordered, waving him back down. Rodney scowled about it but sunk back down between Teyla and Lorne.

"Oh, _great_."

John rolled his eyes as he edged the gate closed behind Ronon again. He pointed Rodney's attention to the innocent-looking Evan Lorne.

"Feel free to tell him where he screwed up. Just don't let the bad guys do a headcount."

And John and Ronon snuck out of the cinder-block bake-house that served as the village jail. There was one guard and John stood back and let Dex handle him. He at least left him breathing. Ronon passed John the guard's knife on their way out and stayed at his back as they ducked around corners and between buildings along the cobblestone alleys. It was a damn shame the people here were so unfriendly; they had some budding industry Atlantis could have used the access to. But that was about to be their loss. 

A little C4 went a long way and one of those useful industries went up in ugly black smoke five minutes later. They had only taken out two people on the way, and nobody died, which made John feel a little better. He didn't count whatever happened in the explosion as their fault.

They made their way back through the alleys to the jail and met up with their team a block away from it. Somebody had figured out that the explosion was the signal, and it was even odds on whether that was Teyla or Rodney first. The Marines had bothered to find their gear before hitting the street, so Teyla and Rodney handed over the weapons John hadn't thought to waste time looking for. 

Rodney checked that some of the mess on John's face was _just_ soot from the gunk he had crawled through to plant the explosives, and the protective idiot kissed him to make sure he was still a functional human, but otherwise was quick to follow after Lorne's team on the way back to the 'gate.

"I'm fine, mother," John hissed at him for it. Rodney nodded.

"You're better, anyway," he said. He tugged on John's sleeve. "Hey, did they leave you any PowerBars? They took all mine."

John dug into a pocket on his thigh and handed over a bar. Rodney made happy noises at him for it, even though they were running.

* * *

“So what I’m hearing is that Lorne isn’t suited for the first contact team,” said Elizabeth. And didn’t she sound smug about it.

They sat in her office, an entire day after the teams had done their quarantine time, and everyone else had been debriefed and turned in reports. John had gone through a specialized round of checkups to make sure his first off-world trip hadn't exposed him to anything his less-than-stable system couldn’t handle, and then gone home, gotten yelled at by Rodney, and taken an eight hour nap. Back in the field didn't mean _normal_ yet, but it was definitely _better_. 

But John was still submitting for medical-retirement when Caldwell got back within email range.

“He’ll learn,” John replied. 

"Yes, I think. And I would prefer he learned from you," replied Elizabeth. "There's nothing in my rules, regulations, and by-laws that dictate AR-1 requires military personnel for diplomatic exploration. So I would prefer, then, to suggest we consider altering Rodney's initial proposal."

"I'm not a secretary," John informed her, quite firm on that point. Elizabeth nodded.

"Yes. I'm quite familiar with your particular administrative style, John," she said, her amused expression indicating her heavy use of sarcasm and absolute dismissal of the idea of John as anybody's secretary. John smiled back at it, glad to have that established. But the Director continued. "I'm putting forward a proposal to reserve your team for diplomatic excursions, with Ronon and Teyla and Rodney all offering their specific areas of expertise alongside your own. As well as liaison between military, diplomatic, and scientific branches of the expedition itself. On behalf of the IOA, not the SGC."

"What?" John asked.

"Essentially, the job you hold now, with a few things more suited to your areas of experience to the benefit of the city, and a few less of those things that, quite frankly, aren't your strong suit," said Weir. "Major Lorne has handled the city well, he and Bates get along and he understands the dynamics of the expedition’s responsibilities in Pegasus beyond simple security. I would recommend he continues as the military officer in charge, representative of the SGC as you have been. What I am suggesting is that you become, essentially, the off-world face of the IOA. Our first-contact team, exactly as you have been, and your reports and activities would be focused on off-world advantages rather than city operations. And the SGC teams can handle the follow-up trade supervision as necessary."

John was a little confused and he knew it showed on his face. "Isn't all that _your_ job?"

Elizabeth shook her head and turned her computer tablet to show him the screen. She had everything all diagrammed out like a formal proposal and John went slightly wide-eyed. 

"No. My job is the administration of the expedition. The representative of our city back to the IOA. Through all of the administrative details and paperwork and secretarial elements that are certainly not your strengths,” she explained. “I still assess the reports from what would be essentially your department, and from Rodney's and Major Lorne's, and that is the information I prioritize and evaluate and return to the international politicians and the money managers and the military representatives. Exactly as I have been doing, but with better division of duties and organization to back up our information. Your division would be on resources, acquisitions, making friends and keeping your ear to the ground. Rodney covers the science and technological advantages and disadvantages. And Lorne handles any military actions or preparations required on the city’s behalf. That’s three units reporting in, rather than two, with the expectation of a more balanced result.”

Considering how fast John felt his attention-span glaze over under her explanation, there would obviously be a learning curve involved. “So you want the IOA in the field.”

“The IOA has wanted in the field from the start. We just didn’t have the resources to provide it. This reorganization creates the resources. Considering the alternative is to go without an asset,” said Elizabeth. She looked over at John, expression sincere and somber. “I would rather take advantage of this opportunity. It would, I think, provide a little more autonomy for the city. With more weight behind our decisions for the expedition.”

“So... we’re playing politics. And hoping nobody back home notices,” said John. “Pry off a bigger piece of the pie for the IOA. Two to one in their corner instead of an even split.”

Elizabeth smiled at him. “Not exactly. But that observation is exactly why it only works if it’s _you_ at the helm on this. Because you, Colonel Sheppard, can work both sides. You can _see_ that angle. And this only works if the person holding the position works for _Atlantis_ first. Not a... bureaucrat who doesn’t know how _this_ galaxy works.”

John sat up a little, brow furrowed as he considered it. Elizabeth folded her hands on her desk and tilted her head at him as she tried to get a read on him.

“I think it’s fair to say, if you had been given the option, there are a few calls you would have made differently in the last year if you hadn’t been beholden to orders from the SGC. Nothing mutinous, certainly. But... different,” said Elizabeth carefully. “I saw it when you took over after Colonel Sumner died, before we went back. And then you and Bates at constant odds. Coloring in the lines isn’t your comfort zone. So, in light of your experiences in Pegasus so far, what would you do differently if you weren’t working from a military playbook? If there was an extra... layer of _insulation_ between your decisions and the SGC.”

To say that playing by the rules wasn’t in his comfort zone was an understatement, but it was amusing anyway. The only reason John hadn’t been court-martialed for his time in Atlantis was the fact that he was a galaxy away from the guys who made those calls, and Elizabeth Weir wouldn’t let them have their way. And because those military suits didn’t want to deal with the mess, Major John Sheppard got a promotion instead of a discharge. Which was, essentially, what Elizabeth was again offering him; it was another way _up_ , not _out_. With somebody else to make the excuses for him, somebody else to cover his calls, spin the politics and let John do what the city needed to have done to survive. 

John had a new perspective on that survival now, perhaps more jaded and bitter after being trapped without a ‘gate. It was something he was working on. And Elizabeth knew it. She was a friend, somewhere, under all the bureaucratic bullshit that was their jobs. Probably more Rodney’s friend than John’s, even, as they had known each other years longer than John had known either of them. John and Elizabeth had talked about his recent attitude problem toward his old job a few times in the weeks since he had tried to quit, and the damn stubborn woman insisted that the grappling with those old ideas made him _better_ at his job, not worse. But, she had agreed, it wouldn’t make his reports back to the SGC any better received at the yearly assessments. And even John’s most paranoid, pessimistic thoughts could see the woman was looking out for him as much as the city.

“Let me think on it,” he said finally. Elizabeth nodded, her smile relaxing and looking actually happy. Apparently ‘ _let me think on it_ ’ translated to a positive outcome in her book; she probably wasn’t wrong. But John’s first run back out into the field hadn’t gone exactly smoothly, and the idea of sticking his neck out wasn’t quite as automatic when he didn’t have the physical strength to get himself or anybody else back out of trouble without help. 

“Not that it should influence the decision at all, but, just as an incidental,” Elizabeth said, her expression her usual sly, “A move like this would put you in the same pay grade as Rodney finally. Maybe nudge you over. I’m technically headhunting you from the Air Force, so we’ll have to see what the Board says.”

John smiled at her for it. “Oh. Well... _That_ could be fun.”

* * *

Thankfully the last off-world mission had been short. They went with a larger team than usual. They had a buddy-system, with each member of AR-1 assigned a Marine shadow. Well, Air Force shadow in John's case, as the entire point of the mission had been ostensibly to prepare Major Lorne for taking over Sheppard's job. It was supposed to be a quick negotiation with a community they had made brief contact with before. 

But Rodney highly suspected that the community had seen there was a bounty out for three of the eight people on the team. And he had wanted to ask about it, but John had literally stepped on his foot every time he tried to open his mouth. After a few attempts, he gave up, and spent much of their six-hour stay on that planet glaring at the back of John's head. 

When they got home, however, he made his opinion known, privately, where nobody else could get involved, like they had defaulted to around Kolya and Cowen. John then spent most of the next eighteen hours silent, aside from an apology. He came back from his appointment with Heightmeyer the next morning and had miraculously remembered how to use _words_ to explain his bad defensive tactic. And he promised not to stomp on him anymore _if_ he ever went out again. John was heavy on the _if_ in that conversation.

And then a few hours later, Sheppard tracked Rodney down to say Elizabeth stole his idea and wanted him to stick with Atlantis, and just make the job an IOA specialist rather than a military commander. The military commander, like the expedition director, wasn’t _technically_ supposed to be going off-world, anyway, as John and Rodney's eleven-and-a-half week, all-expenses-paid, torture-cation had illustrated for them all so well. 

Atlantis was compromised the entire time they were gone, first because John was off-world and unable to form a military response to anything that could have hit the city, and secondly because the threat of harm to the ranking officer was a control point that anyone could have exploited if they had wanted to. In some ways, it was almost lucky for Weir that Kolya just hated the man and hadn’t, for once, been looking for control of Atlantis. As a result, the city’s policy toward off-world trips was being officially re-evaluated and packaged up with Weir’s proposal for the IOA alongside her request that the Air Force Lieutenant Colonel become the IOA’s Lieutenant Director.

The job offer itself served as a quiet, unspoken reminder that, once his damaged back was healed, if it weren't for Rodney, John probably would have kept the career he had already invested just short of twenty years in. But he couldn't keep both under the rules, and he said he was tired of fighting things that were bigger than him. So, with Rodney’s unwitting assistance, Elizabeth found a way around it. 

Rodney wanted John to take it, and he said so, but only if he could get over the aversion to Rodney opening his mouth around the other Tau'ri when they went off-world again. That shut John up and he said he was going to have to think about it. Because Sheppard was a jerk like that. But they went on to start arguing about the stupid _X-Men_ movie they had watched four days earlier because Rodney still hadn't figured out how to fix or make another personal shield yet. Because Sheppard was still a jerk like _that_ , too.

The next few days were quiet on the subject. And then, a little over a week later, Ronon, of all people, showed up at the lab. Rodney honestly hadn't thought Ronon even knew where the lab was.

"I’ve been here a year. I know where everything is," Ronon replied, scoffing at Rodney being ignorant about something. "Anyway, I need to talk to you. Now."

Rodney spluttered at the quiet demand. "What- I'm technically _actually_ doing something of _importance-_ "

"It's about Sheppard."

And of course _that_ made it Rodney's business. Somehow. It seemed like everyone knew that trick now. Rodney scowled at him for it, but he walked out of the room, and the big oaf followed at his heels, practically pushing him along.

"What is this-" Rodney began, but again, Ronon shrugged him off.

"Director's office," he said. At least Rodney had a destination now, but he was no less confused.

"What does it have to do with John then?" he wanted to know, and he was still ignored. When he got to the Director's office, he was met by both Teyla and Elizabeth and Lorne, but noticeably no John.

"What-" Every spidey sense was crying _conspiracy_ just then and Rodney wasn't sure what to make of it. Ronon stood behind him as the door slid closed, however, so there was no easy retreat; the only way out was through. 

"I'm beginning to hope I was lied to," he said, remembering all too easily the feeling of wondering if John was alive or dead, and afraid to ask for clarification on it. Ronon shrugged at him.

"Maybe a little," he admitted. Rodney scowled back at him for it.

"Rodney, there's been new intel, and I wanted to be sure you and John knew about it," Elizabeth said, intentionally pulling Rodney's attention back to her where she stood behind the desk. 

"Then where's John?"

"I assume wherever he usually is," said Elizabeth. Beside her at the end of the desk, Teyla nodded.

"I left him at the gym a half hour ago," she said. "He was fine, Rodney."

"Then why-"

"It has to do with the Genii. Specifically, the bounty. We have an option to pursue here, but if you say to leave it alone, we will," replied Elizabeth. She held up a stack of thin, sheer paper with pictures of faces on them, for Rodney to look through. "That was what the Genii and Aiden Ford distributed to try to get their hands on ATA carriers. We don't know when they started circulation, but it's been out there for months. We have had to ground every one of these soldiers, just to be safe."

Rodney came to his own face, and John's, and tossed the pile down on the desk with the other strewn papers. "Yeah. I know."

"In response, to fight back, we circulated our own versions, with our own contacts," Major Lorne offered up. "The same men. But with contacts we felt we could trust. With none of these men out in the field, the only traffic we would get from it was to find out who was interested, and where they were from. Seems like those would be good places to avoid. It's a big enough galaxy."

That seemed reasonable, and it was news to Rodney, so he nodded, made the mental note to dig deeper into this apparent covert operation with the bounties to verify the problem locations later. Lorne sorted through the photos and papers to find another one. He handed Rodney a large file photo of Aiden Ford. 

"We included this one. And we've had plenty of people offering up intel so far on it. Our boy gets around. People want paid off for tips on his location and we hear about it," said Lorne.

"But we don't want his _location_ ," Elizabeth chimed in. "Just the man himself. So _tips_ don't get paid off. And it's apparently made it very difficult for Lt. Ford and his crew to get much accomplished, in their half-powered ship."

"I don't exactly feel _sorry_ for them," replied Rodney. Elizabeth nodded her agreement with that.

"Captain Tuaron reached out through our contact for a parlay. It seems he's already tired of the attention he's gotten the past few weeks. And he would like to come to a more grown-up arrangement than an archaic bounty and all the risks it entails," she said.

"And it's something we can arrange for, in a few days when Colonel Caldwell and the Daedalus are back," added Lorne. "We missed the Revenant the last time, but there's a chance we can make up for it now." 

"So do it," Rodney said, looking over at the Major. "John told you what to do last time. Either get them away from the Genii, or take their damn ship."

"Just needed to see if you wanted to be involved in that conversation, doc," said Lorne with a nod. "You or Colonel Sheppard."

"If not, I'll turn it over to Colonel Caldwell. Otherwise, we'll start things rolling now to keep it... In-house, if you will," added Elizabeth. She glanced up at Ronon to bring him back into it. "These are Ronon's contacts. AR-1 is involved. But whether it becomes a team excursion or not is up to you and John."

Rodney considered it. "Well, what did John say?"

"I wanted to get your thoughts on this first," said Elizabeth. "You can present it to him if you would rather. Or we will later."

"That's not how these things are normally decided," Rodney pointed out, more than a little irritated. On his own behalf, and John's. Ronon and Teyla had been together longer than he and John had been involved and the other half of AR-1 didn't get singled out for isolated briefings. 

"This isn't any kind of normal situation, Rodney," Teyla pointed out. "Aiden was our team, he was our responsibility, and we failed him. And in so doing, we allowed you and John to be harmed, by his actions, directly or indirectly doesn't matter. That's what we correct with this. This... is family, we're dealing with. And it should be handled differently than others if necessary."

"As long as it's handled thoroughly," said Ronon. He had no love lost on Lt. Ford, and it showed in how he stood, arms crossed and spine rigid, more imposing than ever. "The problem should be put down."

"No, you will not _put down_ Aiden Ford," said Elizabeth, talking over Teyla's own protest. The Director looked up at Ronon, her expression firm and her authority resolute. "Let's make that clear now. Lt. Ford is a citizen of Earth and subject to the laws _and_ protections of his people. If anything, he will be brought back to the Milky Way for his part in this. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am," said Major Lorne, and Ronon echoed him almost a full minute later, unhappy with the order.

"Thank you," said Elizabeth. She looked to Rodney then. "Well, Rodney? Do we plan to send you to the Daedalus?"

Reluctantly, Rodney nodded. "I suppose we have to," he said finally. He glanced across the desk at Elizabeth. "But I'll tell John. He'll... Follow up with you later."

It felt weird being the bearer of intel that had to be delivered outside of the usual briefing, and Rodney wasn't a fan of the way Elizabeth had chosen to do things. It felt like they were breaking out the kid-gloves to handle John, which was only going to piss the man off. It didn't track with wanting John to go back to work when he got off the disabled list, either, if they didn't think he could handle a briefing about something he had already made a call on weeks earlier. He had told Lorne how to handle it. Nothing had changed much, it just took them an extra month to get to it.

But _someone_ didn't want to corner John with the decision in front of everybody and Rodney's guess was Teyla or Elizabeth had made that call. And as much as the change in policy was annoying and offensive, Rodney only reluctantly admitted that it was probably the best way to handle it. John had been the one on that ship they were suggesting parlay with. Whatever happened there, Rodney was safe from, but John... maybe not.

The fact that John might have to be _handled_ was the annoying part when Rodney just wanted things back to normal. Patience was not his strong suit and waiting for things to feel safe and familiar was taking too long, nearly two months now. A meeting on how to not shock John's system with news of the old problems still lurking out there in the galaxy was just one more proof that _normal_ was what had _broken_. 

So Rodney tracked John down, at the gym where Teyla had left him, just sitting in the warm room with the dark shadows and the sunlight both splashed across their corners. The man sat in the bright sun under the orange-tinted glass and seemed comfortable enough on the roll-out mat, but he wasn't folded up in the usual pretzel-pose Rodney normally associated with meditation. He leaned against his thighs, arms draped over his shins, and his head on his wadded up jacket against his knees as he stared at the floor. Whatever he had been doing, he was done now and looked tired. But John usually looked tired. 

Rodney crossed into the room to stand in front of him. "If you're awake, I have news."

Unfolding and sliding his feet forward, John kicked idly at his shoes. Just to be annoying. "I'm awake. What ya got?"

Rodney complained at him about sitting down on the floor but John showed no signs of getting to his feet. Instead, he pulled his heels in to sit cross-legged and smiled lazily up at Rodney. There was now enough room to sit on the mat if he was smart about it. 

"If my knees give out and I get stuck down there, you're the one who has to get me back up," Rodney reminded him, resigned. John smirked back.

"I was on my knees this morning, I think you can sit on your ass for a little while," he replied. Rodney looked quickly, belatedly, around the room to be sure no one else was there and dropped roughly down to the mat, thoroughly distracted by the quiet words. He knew he had turned a little more pink than usual and Sheppard wagged his eyebrows at him.

"Fine, I'm sitting," Rodney said. The surprise of it had given him the excuse to sit sideways on the mat with his legs sprawled out on the floor, saving himself from having to actually look at John to chat. He liked the man's face plenty, but he had never been good at eye to eye conversation. And the nice thing about John was he wasn't much better at it unless he had to be.

"Thank you, Rodney. I'm honored," replied John, still grinning at him. He relaxed his folded-up legs enough to stick the toe of his shoe under Rodney's knee and stretched the other out behind him. He wasn't being annoying that time, just being himself, tucking close in his accidentally intentional ways. "So news. Your news first or mine first?"

Rodney looked over at him, surprised at the announcement. "Yours," he said, because he wouldn't be able to focus on anything else until he heard it now.

"I decided I'll try the medicine Heightmeyer wants me on. Carson said it doesn't have to be forever, just to give me a boost back to normal. And he said maybe it'll help with my back, too," said John. "Since the whole depression thing impairs the... _Every_ thing."

"Normal is good. I'm a fan of normal," said Rodney, nodding his agreement. "Well, what passes for it around here. But you at normal, that would be good. I want that."

Propped carefully back on his hands, slouched enough not to strain his back, John smiled and looked more like himself than he had in months, really. Rodney smiled back and stayed quiet to just enjoy it for a minute. 

"That's all I've got," John said eventually. "What's yours?"

Switching topics wasn't Rodney's favorite idea just then and he sighed. "The long story or the abridged version?"

"Reader's Digest is good," replied John. The smile had faded in response to Rodney's going away. 

"Ford's ship wants to chat about calling off the bounties. Elizabeth wants to know if we want to be present for the conversation," Rodney said. He glanced over at John briefly before studying the window off behind him. "I told her we would."

For a long minute, John didn't say anything. He pulled his knees back up to hang his arms over as he sat up, toying nervously with the sweatband he had taken to wearing on his wrist again. His shoe stayed tucked under Rodney's knee, though. 

"Ford said he didn't know we were there," John told him when he finally found something of his voice again. "He was just... Insisted it wasn't his fault."

"Available evidence would suggest to the contrary," said Rodney, frowning. 

"Yeah. I know," said John, offering a light nod as he struggled with it. "But... I dunno. I think he tried to help."

"So?" Rodney blurted, quiet but no less surprised by what John said. "We don't know where Kolya got his information about our team, maybe not for certain, but he didn't get it from us. And Ford was working with him, we _know_ that. A single conversation for him, that maybe he doesn’t even remember having, and we lose three months of our lives. You nearly died. It's not exactly chaos theory here, John. The man talked and Kolya listened and _we_ paid for it."

John's lost expression faded behind a flare of anger. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, he did. I just... He's a kid. I don't think he knew what he was doing."

Rodney stared at him, mildly shocked. "And that matters how, exactly? He helped them!"

“Rodney, _we_ helped them. We got stuck and had to help them, just to save our own skin, alright? His circumstances are a little different maybe, but it’s still him against... a whole galaxy of trouble on his own,” said John, still trying to show what he saw as reason. Rodney shook his head.

“No. That’s not the same. Doesn’t matter,” he said. “It’s different.”

John actually met him eye to eye and held his gaze, intent. "Yeah. But it matters how they handle him. I don't want him tossed in the brig. I don't want him back on Atlantis at all. The kid can't go home, he's dead on Earth. Just... Get his ship the gene therapy and get them the hell away from us."

"What about the Genii?" Rodney said, annoyed despite himself. He could see John was serious, but he could see the man had apparently forgotten rational thought, too. "They worked with them before, they'll do it again. And they'll have a _ship_ next time, John..."

Sheppard just shook his head. "He _won't_."

"You can't know that."

"No, but I can find out," John replied.

"John... Damnit, don't..." Rodney sagged where he sat, unwilling to argue with John when the man's logic didn't seem to track like it usually would. He wasn't okay with it, and he wasn't seeing it right, and it wasn't like dealing with John at all just then. His judgement was wrong. He was too hurt. _Again_. And Rodney still couldn't fix it. The others were probably very right for not presenting it to John in the briefing.

John reached over and caught Rodney's arm, tugging until he got his attention back. 

"Rodney... Listen. He's just a kid, okay? We already got him killed once. I'm not doing it again. Not sending him back for going AWOL and... Everything of the last year. Not happening," said John. "These guys got him clean from that wraith enzyme. He trusts them. He can figure things out with _them_."

Rodney did listen, but he still didn't see things the way John did. He shook his head. "The _kid_ knows Atlantis, John. If he'll tell Kolya how to beat the transmitters, he'll tell anyone else how to get around the 'gate."

"If he remembered our address, he would have moved on it by now, rather than their stupid bounty scheme," John pointed out. "And he can't get around the Iris. He's just a soldier, not a genius. Just... Trust me on this. I talked to him. I think I'm right. We just... deal with him straight this time, he won't come back."

"I think you're wrong, and _I'm_ the genius," Rodney replied. John pulled his arm to reel him in rather than just get attention, scooting closer until Rodney's arm was over John's knees and he leaned against his legs. John knocked his forehead to his, rough enough to be noticed but still just to be close. He stared just to make sure he was listened to.

"You're the genius. And I'm the guy that conned Kolya for over a _month_. I can work Aiden Ford for five minutes," he said. "Just trust me."

He still hugged Rodney's arm, but he had certainly kicked up the doubt in Rodney's mind, for the first time in months. Rodney huffed a laugh. "You're so proud of working people, yet telling me to trust you. Think about that a minute, John..."

"I don't have to work _you_ , Rodney. Never have," he said. And when Rodney tried to pull back into his own space, John let him, and he sat up, arms folded over his knees as a blockade without pushing Rodney away. The whole day was distressing suddenly and Rodney wanted to go back in time four hours and never have left for the lab to avoid where he had ended up, worried about John's sanity as much as his own for doing so.

"How the hell would I know that?"

John made a face at that, like he was in pain, but he shrugged. "You don't hurt people on purpose, Rodney. You've never set out to hurt me. That's... Why _we_ work."

"Bullshit. Any time I said the wrong thing, Kolya-" Rodney began, but John just talked over him.

"What I'm saying is, there's no sense making you see something else that you might not want. Despite my best damn efforts, I'm still here, because when _you_ want something from somebody, you don't hurt them. _You_ keep them _alive_. And even before all this, I figured out, anything you want from what's left of my mess, you can have it."

Oh.

Rodney still braced his side and shoulder against John's shins and he slouched a little heavier into him then. The little voice that said John was just trying to get someone to sign the check at that old fundraiser instead went silent then. The man had a hundred faces and some of them were just for Rodney, some of them were just _his_ , because some of them were just _John_ , Rodney realized.

"I can lie to the people I have to, Rodney. I'm really good at knowing who that is," John said, rough voice quiet. "And that's never been you. Even back at the start, when I was just the Major who could make the tech work. We make a good team just as we are. No front."

Rodney nodded, settled and agreed on that. "Yes. But that doesn't mean I like this idea of yours."

With a shrug, John inched closer just enough to catch Rodney's attention. "Remember that time you said you wanted a Nobel Prize, so I helped you kill a solar system?"

Rodney glared at him for the taunting reminder, but he took the point. "Fine. We try your way. And when it bites us in the ass, I am saying _I told you so._ In your face. As we all _die_."

John nodded along, dutiful in his agreement to the deal. "Got it. You'll be you until we die. And I can deal with the in my face part, too."

Rodney stared back at him, not immune to the attempt at humor, but still concerned. "You're risking the city. _Atlantis_ , John. Not just us."

"Pretty sure I've got a handle on the risk assessment on this one," John replied. He tilted his head, expression faded. "But if I can't get you on board, there's no way Elizabeth will back me up on it."

"I'll back you up on it," Rodney said.

"You're just still working on the _trust me_ part," replied John.

"Maybe," said Rodney, reluctant. "Just because it's _this_. It's Ford. And maybe it still hits you."

John closed off at the observation and shook his head. "Relax. It isn't my job anymore, Rodney. It all has to run through Lorne first. Then Elizabeth. If it hits me or not, doesn't matter."

"It does to some of us," replied Rodney. John furrowed his brow, his whole face scrunching up as he found some spot on the floor by Rodney's knee to stare at. He was quiet before he shook his head. He glanced up at Rodney.

"I promise you. I'm fine with this. As long as they let me handle Ford," he said finally. "I'm _right_ on this, Rodney."

Still worried, Rodney watched John sulk on it from right up close. "I believe you," he said. "I just think maybe you're a little crazy, too."

John's lips tugged up at the corners. "That's not new."

The man wasn't exactly wrong about that.

* * *


	22. Chapter 22

There was a noticeable distrust inherent in the fact that the team had cornered Rodney on their plans rather than just include John in the meeting. He wasn't an idiot. He knew what that meant. Even after two months back at home, John's friends thought he was fragile. And once Rodney had heard John insist on letting Aiden walk away, he was right onboard with the others. Kid gloves and whispered conversations and the assumption that Sheppard was going to break, like a Jenga tower that was one block away from collapse if the wind kicked up.

His friends and everyone else saw him in the gym sometimes, some talked to him most every day, and they still only saw that he kept to himself and Rodney. Computer games and borrowed books and physical therapy to keep him busy; he couldn’t even golf yet. John kept things quiet and to himself. And he’d give them the point that it _wasn’t_ normal, but there were some pretty sturdy physical and structural walls between Lt. Colonel Sheppard and whatever normal was supposed to be without the Air Force. What was he supposed to do without full use of his arms and with constant pain in his back? Nobody could spoon feed him those answers. He was stuck, physically weakened, and had nothing to do with his time. 

Being _home_ wasn’t all that different from before, with the Genii, he just didn’t have Kolya in his face anymore. That didn’t mean he was _fragile_. Just... dealing.

His friends were worried about him and trying to protect him. And it pissed him off. But there wasn't much John could do about it, other than be mad and be quiet. It wasn't like he wasn't used to that state anyway. Yelling at any of them, insisting that he knew what he was doing, would only convince them of the opposite. If John wanted people to stop coddling him, he had to get out there and prove they were the ones being stupid. 

He didn't exactly blame them for the assumptions. But if Elizabeth was going to offer him a job, he'd like to think she actually thought he was capable of _doing_ it. And setting up an agreement with the Travelers would be an excellent test. So later that afternoon, when Elizabeth tried to tell him she didn't think it was a wise idea to let him take point on handling the Revenant, John was very _polite_ about calling bullshit what it was. 

"I was under the impression we were waiting on the formalities here, Elizabeth," said John as he stood across the desk from her, in her office. Rodney lurked at the door with Ronon, while Elizabeth, Teyla, and Lorne were up at the desk on their own sides, just as it happened. "You're still waiting to hear back from the IOA. And I'm still sitting on that resignation until Colonel Caldwell gets back in range. Which he is now, or should be soon. Right?"

"Correct," said Elizabeth with a polite nod.

"And we did the test run. AR-1 and Major Lorne and Richmond's squad," John went on. "And it was determined I got the passing grade on that one. So we know I've been medically cleared for off-world, I've done the prelim psych eval, my last mission debrief is filed and pending Caldwell's signature, and I am fully capable of walking both ways through a functional 'gate. So what part of this whole equation doesn't add up to AR-1 handling Tuaron and Ford as a team and establishing contact with the current owners of the Revenant, the same as any new contact?"

"Because this is not a _neutral_ situation, John," said Elizabeth.

"It is if I say it is," John replied. "I'm the only one here who's met with either Ford or the Revenant's captain. And putting aside the fact that I've got a few things to say to them, I've got a few more.... data points, let's say, on _how_ to deal with them than anyone else here. And the way we win this one is to get them the gene therapy and send them on their damn way."

"What?" Teyla seemed to stumble over the word, too surprised by the suggestion. Elizabeth hid behind her Director-mask, but she wasn't much better off than Teyla. Lorne frowned at him but didn't say anything. He had their attention, anyway.

"Ford found this crew. He's good with them, their agenda, so that's where he should stay if he wants. If he's going to disappear, it might as well be out here, not into some brig. And the fact is, we can't be the only ones out here fighting. If the Travelers can figure something out against the Wraith, great. We just have to chat with them about Kolya and Cowen and why the Genii are bad news. They know enough to pay attention. And I'd like to hear what they say about it. If we fail, fine, send in the Marines and take the ship. But my team talks to them first. We start this contact over."

"Are you- John, you can't be serious," said Teyla. "Aiden brought this-"

" _Aiden_ didn't pull the trigger and we can't prove he did," John replied. "And I'm not interested in wasting the next year of my life rehashing shit with the SGC because they want to know in triplicate everything that went wrong that caused us to send them an AWOL soldier. _And_ we are _not_ turning Atlantis into a _prison_ colony by locking him up here. I don't want him back here. Everything he knows about us is a year old and I want to keep it that way."

He was very careful to keep his tone even and clear, like he actually knew what he was talking about. It was taking every ounce of patience he had to ignore the concern and pity on his friends' faces, and he reluctantly had to admit to himself that the chat he had with Heightmeyer on the team's overprotective streak was actually helpful. It was annoying as hell to be the only one at the center of their concern, but he didn't have to react to it. They could do what they had to, but he could still try to do his damn job, whether they believed he was back on his feet or not. John focused on Elizabeth then.

"If I'm really supposed to take on the envoy job, really the guy you want suggesting what relations are good or bad for the city, this is my first damn call. Genii _bad_. Travelers _good_. If there's another society in this galaxy capable of space travel, that's _not_ the wraith, we want them on _our_ side Which means we fix what got busted and start over."

"With Aiden?" Teyla asked, careful. She was concerned, but the focus seemed to be on Ford this time, not Sheppard's sanity, and John would take that. He nodded.

"He's green, he screwed up, and the galaxy gets pretty big when you can't get through the 'gate to get home. I'll give him some room on this. Just once," he said, meeting her scrutiny on it with a tense shrug. He glanced at Elizabeth. "That's why my team deals with him. Because he doesn't get another shot. And he'll listen to Teyla and me. _Everyone_ else is just a threat."

Elizabeth crossed her arms as she considered it, her own suspicious mask faded. “You’re suggesting exile, John.”

Sheppard nodded again. “More or less. Something he did to himself months ago anyway. So we start from the middle ground and work from there.”

“Atlantis is still beholden to the jurisdiction of the IOA’s laws of justice,” Lorne pointed out. “And Ford is still military.”

John glanced over at the soldier, aware of the situation the conversation put him in. “I’m not suggesting we lie to the brass, Major. He’s been listed as dead with the SGC for months. If Caldwell reported otherwise, we just have to figure out where to put him. Which means Atlantis can handle this particular disciplinary action in-house. So... I’m suggesting we place Lt. Ford on permanent assignment with the Travelers. ” 

“Ford just doesn’t have to know that part,” offered up Rodney, a smaller mirror of the sulking Ronon by the door. They both had their arms crossed, neither one wearing a particularly happy expression, but they were listening. Ronon nodded.

“Anybody who runs their mouth about Atlantis doesn’t see her again,” said Ronon. 

“It means we still have contact with the Revenant, we keep tabs on the ship, and we know where our man is. No different than any other station. And if Ford still has any loyalty to the SGC, which I think he does... somewhere. Maybe a little buried. But if he _does_ , it works out to Atlantis’ advantage in the long run,” said John quickly. He was very careful not to acknowledge the others’ comments because, even if he agreed with them, it put Evan and Elizabeth in a difficult spot. But Lorne was suddenly smiling as he caught on to the loophole Sheppard was suggesting they exploit. Just because the SGC knew Ford was still alive didn’t mean they had to send him back, and just because Ford had screwed up once didn’t mean he couldn’t still be a good soldier. They had to pick their battles to win wars.

“I take your point, Colonel,” Elizabeth said after a long quiet. “And if proper precautions are taken, and if the team is willing to take the risk... We can try it and see.”

“I think we can try it,” said Rodney, though whether that was because he believed John again or because he had promised, there was no way to know. Ronon was a more open book about it.

“I’m good with it. And if they don’t like it, we can still just take the ship,” he said. “Either way, it solves the problem of the Genii.”

Elizabeth weighed that out and reluctantly seemed to nod her agreement to it. Lorne looked ready to sign off on whatever authorizations the expedition Director would have to shove under his nose for it. Teyla, however, was looking like the one AR-1 hold-out.

“Stranding Aiden alone was what started all of this, John. Now you’re suggesting we do it again?” she asked, her brow furrowed. She seemed hurt by it. John shook his head.

“No, I’m suggesting letting him stay where he is. That’s his team, his ship. As much as _this_ is our team, and _our_ ship. He found that one. They made him better because he didn’t trust us to do it,” he replied. “And since I screwed that up, at least this way, we don’t screw up what he built for himself without us. If we do it right this time, it works out.” 

"He can work for Atlantis without endangering anybody if he stays with the Travelers," said Ronon. "Saves me from shooting him."

" _Ronon_ ," intoned John, barely glancing back at him for the massively _not-helping_ side comments. 

"I'm just saying," the Satedan replied with a shrug. "Just because you two are okay with calling it even, doesn't mean we all are. He got all four of us with this shit, you and McKay got it twice. Ford gets consequences for it. It doesn't get to happen again."

Teyla looked up at Sheppard then. "And you are sure of this? This is justice?"

"Close enough. This calls it time-served and we all move the fuck on," said John. "Atlantis at least maybe gets an ally out of the mess."

Teyla accepted that with a nod. "Then I will help." 

Elizabeth studied her and John both for a moment before she nodded. The Director looked over to Ronon. “Then if you could arrange it, Ronon. Get us an address for a meeting.”

The door swooshed open and Ronon was out of the office before John could even glance back at him. He met Rodney’s worried gaze instead and offered a smile. Something had gone his way for once.

* * *

The meeting was set for a gated planet that had been culled decades earlier, supposedly a dead one; if nothing else, Ronon had found another prime candidate for Rodney’s 'gate bridge project while he was at it. The planet had a working ‘gate, but no functioning DHD. The Daedalus scouted ahead of the meet, but AR-1 would be arriving by the stargate. Just in case Rodney couldn’t repair the DHD and having the 'gate at their back wasn't enough, however, John had Carson check everyone's transmitters, including his new one. Everyone was traceable. No one would be disappearing from the Daedalus' sensor sight. Everyone would be going home.

"You're sure about this?" Elizabeth asked quietly as she stood with the team in front of the waiting wormhole.

"I'm sure we've had this conversation before," John replied with a tight smile. He glanced at his watch. "I believe about twelve hours ago."

"Well, the answer was allowed to change if it needed to," Elizabeth replied. "And I told you that then. So I was just checking in."

"Understood, doc, but - and don't take this the wrong way - I don't need checked up on anymore. It's not in the job description, last I knew," he reminded her. And he kept it to himself that it just made him nervous, made him feel the ache of shredded muscles and doubt whether or not he was fit enough to run away. He could. He could even get in some defensive fighting, as long as he didn’t twist his back or swing with his right arm. John had been cleared for most of his regular duties. The doctor's note outlining the more permanent damage was forwarded along to Caldwell, along with John's retirement notice, the day before. The IOA approval of Elizabeth’s revised operations and administration proposal had shown up the day before that. 

AR-1 was technically the IOA’s responsibility now, with no military personnel involved, and Director Weir was just doing her job. It just happened to be that she could back off a little about it. It wasn't how Sheppard wanted to start the new gig.

"It's not, no," Elizabeth allowed. She set her hand on his forearm and squeezed slightly over his jacket. Elizabeth the friend was the one checking up, not Weir the Director. "Then good luck. And tell Mr. Ford I'm glad he's recovered."

There was a formality to the well-wishes that made it less than genuine but John figured he wouldn't pass that part along. He just nodded and stepped away to join his team as AR-1 assembled without him in front of the event horizon. He bumped shoulders with Rodney and nodded to the other two.

"Good to go?" he asked.

"Let's go," replied Ronon. Teyla and Rodney seemed more reluctant but no less agreeable, so they crossed through the stargate, unconsciously paired off.

Rodney was nervous about going off-world in general, but going to meet up with Ford again was a whole different level, and he had told John his concerns the night before because he couldn't logic his way around them. They had every precaution in place that they could, they would be armed, and in range of the Daedalus. The only thing they couldn't have in place was some kind of leash to keep the stargate with them and secure. And still he was worried about it. 

John was, too, but that was the paranoia talking, the noise and the fear in his head that had built up over two months since he had seen Ford last. It wasn't real, it was just noise. He had years of practice at overthinking the night before an opp and that noise was always there. It just usually wasn't quite so _loud_. 

What was real was that he hadn't stayed with Ford, Rodney hadn't stayed with Cowen, and their team had gotten them home. There would be no splitting up this time, and they would get home with their team, like they always did. It wasn't so much logic as a plan and at least an argument against the fear. So Rodney had accepted it and tangled himself into John's space for the rest of the night after that. And he hardly left it once they woke up, allowing for the demands of professionalism. John didn't mind the reassurance; even if the plan not to split up somehow failed, he and Rodney would stick together.

They walked out into a dry, cold planet, with a brighter, white-tinted sunlight. John was glad for his sunglasses as he took a look around. There were a few trees, but mostly the area around the 'gate was flat rock and overgrown weeds and field grass. Not much opportunity to hide, no easy ambush points. He looked to Teyla and she nodded her approval of the place; Ronon had planned well. Now they just had to wait, find out if Aiden and his new boss were capable of keeping their word.

Rodney poked at the power column of the DHD, replaced a few crystals, and declared the thing salvaged. AR-1 set up at the trees in sight of the stargate and were on the planet for an hour before they saw the added sparkle of light off in front of the 'gate. Two human-shaped visitors appeared in the remnants of the beam of transport light. The Revenant could have sent other crew members down, could have men on approach from somewhere else, but there was no advantage to that with so much open space around them. All the same, Sheppard took his time walking his team out to meet them. They held their chat out at the DHD, off in front of the stargate, close enough to use it but far enough away to avoid trouble showing up.

Stalling as he did a visual check on the two men’s weapons, Sheppard stood beside the ‘gate device and leaned into it. "Ford."

The Lieutenant nodded his greeting, the kid otherwise distracted checking the others with Sheppard.

"Colonel Sheppard," said Aiden’s new boss.

"Captain,” Sheppard greeted, a neutral smile under his sunglasses. “Where's Leuca?"

The question caught the two Travelers off guard. Captain Tuaron shook his head in apology. "She stays on the ship. It's her infirmary."

It wasn’t a surprise at all and John shrugged it off. "Damn, I was hoping she'd come along. Well, when you get back up to it, tell her I say hi. She was cranky. I liked her."

"I'll be sure to pass that along," said Tuaron. He sounded amused. That was hopefully a good sign.

"Appreciated," Sheppard replied with a nod.

"Are you better? You're looking better," asked Ford. It was less hopeful and a little more expecting, a little short and annoyed for what John remembered of Aiden Ford. Like everything was supposed to be fine now and AR-1 was wasting their time.

"Transmitter's back in place, if that's what you mean,” he said, carefully maintaining his casual good-will. “And the gang's all back together."

That didn’t seem to improve Ford’s attitude at all, but John hadn’t really expected it to. The young man frowned at him and then the rest of his team lurking a few steps away. "Yeah..."

Sheppard shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, dismissing Ford’s concerns. He nodded toward Teyla. "Teyla won't bite. Give the other two some room, though."

Teyla smiled lightly at the cautiously attempted humor but she had already made it clear she would be handling Aiden with kid-gloves. "It's good to see you well, Aiden."

"That's nice of you to say," Aiden replied. Sheppard frowned at him, shook his head. He wasn’t there to play Bad Cop to Teyla's Good Cop, but he wasn't going to let Ford bully the team he left behind, either. Ford could feel bad for his choices on his own time, but it wasn't their job to coddle him. If they had to deal with things he had feelings about, they would, because the rest of the team had their own problems to sort out, too.

"See, here's the thing, Ford. She means it. And up to a certain point, same here," Sheppard said. He stood up, straightened his vest and P90, and tried to square up with the kid. "And I get this isn't the business Captain Tuaron's here about, but it's all part and parcel. So if there's grievances you need to get off your chest, let's take the time to get it done before we try to handle anything else."

Ford hadn't been expecting the callout, despite the attitude that said he was expecting a fight at every word from Sheppard. "What? I'm good."

John tilted his head and waited him out. "Teyla and me have been in your corner from the start, so if you're good, then maybe work on selling that a little better, Lieutenant. You're really not a great liar, but you're a good right-hand. And if you don't believe me, check with the captain here. He's gone through a lot of shit to keep you on board lately, from the sounds of it. He probably has a similar opinion."

"I wouldn't know," said Aiden. But he knew. He looked to the side, tracking Ronon as the Satedan all but paced ten feet away behind Rodney. Ford was nervous and guilty and dealing with it like training told him to. Another soldier under orders. The one thing that got in the way for him on AR-1 was that the rest of the team was more interested in getting things done than they were with the rules that told them how it should be. John shook his head.

"Maybe you should start to pay attention then. Deal with people straight instead of this bounty bullshit," he said.

"Hey, somebody put _my_ face out there, too. I wonder who _that_ was," returned Aiden. 

"I don't. It was us," replied Sheppard. Now he was getting somewhere worth going. "Same as it was my guys who destroyed the stargate on Genea rather than deal with any further bounty bullshit from the Genii. We've got a big enough mess on our hands as it is. So since you helped start it, you can share the clean up. Fair is fair."

"We need trade for supplies just as you do," Teyla added, cautious. "We have some four hundred people to take care of. The bounty, unfortunately, hurt more than just Colonel Sheppard and Dr. McKay."

The attitude from Ford faded again at the reminder and his attention dropped to the dirt at their feet. Tuaron apparently felt a share of the man's guilt because he drew himself up to height to stand at what probably counted as attention for his people.

"The arrangements were never supposed to result in harm," he said, direct and very clear on that point. It didn't exactly make Rodney or Ronon like that man any, but it wasn't a surprise to John. Tuaron at least seemed apologetic under the formality. "We're trying to get our ship going. We needed help. Healthy, able bodied crew."

"I understand that, Captain,” replied Sheppard. “And, as I said, I _like_ your crew. But I'm still responsible to my city. And the bounty makes that pretty damn impossible." 

Teyla nodded her agreement. "There's other ways to handle your situation that our people are ready to help you with. But there's no point in offering if our help won't be believed or accepted."

"I'm not putting my crew at risk. Today, or down the line," added Sheppard. The observation seemed to rattle Ford and he opened his mouth to argue but words didn’t seem to cooperate for him just then.

"What?" Tuaron asked, not quite as defensive as Ford.

"Your arrangements with the Genii would have to stop," replied Sheppard. Tuaron relaxed at that.

"On that score, I promise you they have. Months ago. Commander Kolya sealed that particular fate during my negotiations with him," he said.

"Meaning what?" asked John.

"Meaning that the Genii are stuck on Genea and the Revenant won't be playing taxi," replied Ford.

"Now we're talking. Let them sort out space travel on their own, without any Lantean technological help,” replied Sheppard. He relaxed his stance and let the slight tug of a smile hit his lips, waved a hand to keep the friendly news coming his way. “Toss in some magic words about the bounty on my head, and I'll make sure Leuca gets the gene therapy to distribute to your crew."

"Gene therapy?" Tuaron didn’t seem to have heard about the miracle-cure for his staffing problem and John had to smile through the urge to blame Ford all over again. Instead he just nodded.

"Those other ways Teyla mentioned. My doc found a way to put active Lantean DNA in your system. The stuff the ship responded to when I was there..."

"It's not 100% foolproof... That stuff didn't work on me," said Ford. John sighed and looked away to hide his frustration with the kid. He shook his head and looked back to Tuaron.

"You don't need a full ship of gene carriers, you just need a couple of them to flip the lights on. You've got good odds there," he said.

"You were going to make it work with just the Colonel,” Rodney pointed out, stepping up closer. He could handle the science stuff; John needed the distraction to keep his annoyance hidden and their sales pitch in play. McKay set a hand on the DHD not far from his shoulder and Sheppard stepped back to let him closer. “All you need is one."

John nodded his agreement and turned his attention back to Tuaron. "McKay's a bit sore on that part still, but he's got a valid point. We can get you enough of the stuff and set up a few chats between Leuca and Carson so she understands how to administer it, all that. Worst case scenario is you burn through it and only a handful in your crew can turn the lights on. But all you need is one."

"It's a helluva lot better success rate than kidnapping our guys," offered Ronon from the background. Again, John nodded.

"So that's your proposal,” Tuaron asked, pulling Sheppard’s attention back. “This gene therapy to provide to the crew for the Revenant."

"In exchange for you leaving the Genii where they are and dropping the bounty on our men, yes," said McKay.

"And keeping Ford out of trouble. He found a place on your crew. It suits him. He should keep at it,” added Sheppard, looking to Tuaron, commanding officer to commanding officer. “And in return, Atlantis promises to answer the call if you ever need to find us."

Ford hadn’t expected that. His brow furrowed, he looked from John to Teyla and back. “What- what about the bounty?”

That was easily shrugged off. “It was bullshit. But you didn’t exactly leave a forwarding number so it was what we had,” replied Sheppard. Rodney snapped his fingers at the reminder.

"I want a list, though. _Every_ planet that got those pictures,” he said, very determined to be understood with the demand. “ _We_ only circulated out to three planets and _still_ managed to end up at the planets you had already been to for it."

"That's reasonable," said Tuaron with a nod. John looked from face to face, satisfied with where it looked like things were ending up. Ford had dropped the defensive front and seemed much more relaxed, watching AR-1 with an almost enlightened expression.

"So. Everyone agreed then? All friends here?" John asked.

"It is agreed." Tuaron smiled back and shook the hand Sheppard offered. Even the Captain looked to Ford then. "And Lieutenant Ford has one final piece of business. Proof of that friendship, I hope."

John eased back from shaking hands with the captain at the unexpected announcement, unconsciously a step closer to Rodney. "Oh? What's that?"

Whatever it was, it seemed to cause Ford a great deal of pain to grapple with sharing, even under orders.

"Kolya broke our agreement,” he finally said. “We saw that the second we picked you up. It's why I took you to Leuca. She has jurisdiction over patients that I knew would keep Kolya out."

Smile faded away, Sheppard nodded. "I figured."

"We didn't send Kolya back to the Genii after you left," said Ford.

"What?" asked Sheppard. McKay echoed with a " _Where is he?_ "

The young lieutenant nodded and motioned broadly toward the open territory that surrounded them. "He's here. Somewhere on this planet. It's uninhabited because the gate's broken, but it's not uninhabitable. So we ditched him here."

Rodney shook his head, agitated and frustrated by the news, but not quite sure what to do with it. "The gate's not broken. I just fixed it."

"Then unfix it," replied Ford, just barely not an order. Rodney glared at him and John caught his arm. He maybe needed the anchor point more than McKay needed the reminder not to start something none of them had the luxury of cleaning up suddenly. 

"It's a small planet,” added Tuaron. Between the captain and his lieutenant, they apparently thought they had done AR-1 a favor. “But this is the largest continent. We left him a weapon. As stubborn as he is, he's still alive."

Feeling somewhat detached behind an anger he thought he had stepped back from weeks ago, John made himself let go of Rodney’s arm. "Rodney... Please unfix the 'gate before we get trouble where we don't want it."

With a nod, Rodney turned away quickly to start messing with the DHD. Ronon stepped up alongside Sheppard and Teyla, playing guard dog against the two allies who had just admitted to leaving a live weapon lying around, aimed likely at Sheppard's head.

“Where is he then?” Sheppard asked, still relying on the mask that had gotten him through the conversation so far. “You said he’s armed?"

"With one of these?" Ronon asked, holding up his magnum. Sheppard tracked the movement in his peripheral, recognized the gun that had once gotten him waterboarded. His patience seemed to snap and he backed away from the crowd, reaching for his radio.

"Daedalus, this is Sheppard. I need a headcount on human life signs from this planet. Now," he said, not waiting for communication confirmation. "Specifically, locations. Proximity to AR-1."

He looked out at the cold, rocky plain, with the few pockets of off-color evergreens, and the gentle rolling hills. They were places to hide. And the range on the Travelers' magnum wasn't anything to play with. The problem was that John saw only red. He was surprised, he was angry, and he was all but helpless waiting for information from other people. 

Everything he looked out at couldn't be trusted because it wasn't what he wanted to see. He saw a shadow that looked like it was cast by a human, he saw a tree trunk that looked a little broad in the shoulders at over a hundred yards, he saw a discolored rock that was draped in an olive-colored jacket; none of it was real. And he knew that. He was confident in the fact that it was Rodney crouched at the base of the DHD next to him, and that Rodney had leaned his shoulder into John's thigh to balance against as he dug into the crystals and the wires and the spider webs of the control device. That was real. But the other stuff wasn't. The other stuff was old rage and new paranoia, suddenly right in front of his face.

The report came back from the Daedalus comms that there were six signals around and including AR-1, and another a mile away. Sheppard heard it but he didn't quite process it correctly. It took him a few seconds of replaying it in his head before he understood the location coordinates and he still looked to Rodney for the translation. McKay had completed the task at the DHD and was watching him, but he had a tablet in his hand.

"That way," he said cautiously, pointing toward the horizon under the line of the planet's sun. 

* * *


	23. Chapter 23

The change that had come over the Colonel then was quite visible. Teyla saw it in the way the man stood, the tension in his shoulders and neck. Colonel Sheppard seemed to draw in, make himself smaller as he looked around for the threat. His sunglasses blocked his eyes, but she honestly wasn't sure she wanted to see any clearer expression on her friend's face. She wanted to send him up to the Daedalus suddenly, where it was safer for him. Instead, she closed ranks just as Ronon did, moving to cover an angle that one of the others hadn't already.

That reaction, she realized, was a problem. Not only for herself and their team, as their concern for John was a distraction from their surroundings, but also for the Colonel. The man was fully capable of taking the lead in any other situation. She had trusted his judgement for two years, known he would watch out for her and their team and any others they were with to the best of his ability. There had been no question, no hesitation. 

And now, even Ronon moved to protect, block the man in a box that they could control and defend. The trouble was that they hadn't been asked. No order had been given, aside from the one to break the DHD. But even Rodney held himself between the Colonel and the invisible threat.

Teyla steeled herself against two months' practice and looked back at John. 

"Colonel Sheppard?" she asked, very intentionally using his title, despite knowing he had grown to hate it. He was still their team lead and commander, even if they were protective. "What are your orders?"

If she startled him, he was at least aware enough to hide it. But he was unsettled. 

"Well. Not a lot of advantages. If he's been here this whole time, we're trespassing," John said. He looked from Teyla to the stargate, then to where Rodney stood at the front of the DHD, steps away. Rodney looked pale, nervous, but just like Teyla, Sheppard held his attention more than their surroundings.

"We have the 'gate," said Rodney. He still held the crystals he had pulled from the DHD, an illustration of his point. John nodded, accepted the logic with an unnatural stillness. A moment later, he triggered the radio again.

"Sheppard to Daedalus. One more request. Radio Atlantis. Have them dial our location and hold it open until further notice," he said.

"Sheppard, what's going on down there?" came Colonel Caldwell's voice over their radios.

"We're settled in to stay a while, Colonel," replied Sheppard. "Sorry for the inconvenience, but there's more stops on this business trip than we were expecting."

"So we're waiting then?" Caldwell asked. 

"We could still use the backup on standby," said Sheppard. "But McKay can get the 'gate going if you're in a hurry."

"We're not going anywhere," Caldwell replied. "Daedalus standing by."

The stargate opening accented his words, proof that the message had been passed along to Atlantis. Proof that Colonel Sheppard still had the trust and command of not only their city, but the backing of the crew of the Daedalus as well. Teyla looked from the enticing blue whirlpool of the iris to John and hoped he saw what she did there.

John turned back to the two Travelers who they had arrived on the planet to meet with initially. The two who had offered a rather violent bit of news as a peaceful exchange.

"Well, gentlemen, I guess we'll handle that problem from here," Sheppard said. The earlier casual drawl was noticeably gone, his voice instead rough and controlled anger. "As it does put a definite hold on our other arrangements."

"What? Why?" asked Aiden. Teyla frowned at the determined young man.

"Gee, I wonder why we would be concerned about the possibility of a psychopath dropping by on our chat," replied Rodney before cooler heads could prevail.

"I mean, there's the two of us here, too," insisted Aiden. He motioned between himself and his captain. "We can help. If you're tracking the man down, let us help."

Tuaron nodded his agreement with his second volunteering him for the project. Teyla almost smiled because Aiden did work much better with this man, much more confident than he had ever been following along in Sheppard's shadow.

John, however, shook his head. "I'm not chasing that bastard down anywhere. We've got food and shade to get us a few more hours out here. As long as Atlantis will leave the porch light on for us, he can come to me if he wants that 'gate. And after two months of this, I'm sure he'll come looking."

Teyla did smile then, proud to hear the decisive tone in the Colonel's voice. She looked around the open valley, all rocks and bright sun, with its few places to take shelter. She didn't question his call, merely tried to find the best place to set camp to wait without the team sitting around to be picked off like fish in a pond.

“So you’re just going to, what, sit around and wait?” Aiden asked. To his credit, he sounded more confused than judgmental, but he was definitely questioning the Colonel’s call. 

“After the last few months, a few hours is easy,” replied John, sounding solid on his resolve. He nodded toward Aiden and Tuaron. “Like I said, you boys are free to go on home. We’re good, as far as I know. We’ll square up on the rest once we settle our business with Kolya.”

“We can help,” Aiden tried again. Teyla saw it then, shook her head. The young man had the heart to lead but not the words, nor the experience or patience. And Colonel Sheppard didn’t hold command by his casual words, didn’t tell them what to do. Their mutual quiet conflicted, unlike Ronon’s action which always complemented the Colonel’s. No amount of respect between Sheppard and Ford could have ever gotten around that simple difference in communication. Tuaron was still green, like Aiden, and his tendency to observe rather than act encouraged the man’s temper. Still, Captain Tuaron set a hand to his Lieutenant's shoulder to keep him grounded.

“It’s not safe, Aiden,” said Teyla. The fact of it was that they couldn't trust Ford and Tuaron in light of the apparent exile, they didn't want the Travelers' help yet. But it wouldn't do to be honest in this situation. So Teyla was only half truthful with them. “The more people on the ground, the more risk.”

“He doesn’t need a search party, Ford,” Tuaron pointed out. Sheppard still considered them. Then he shrugged.

“Alright. You want to do something now, bring Leuca down here. We’ll get her and Beckett up to the Daedalus to talk shop,” said the Colonel. “She’ll be safe on the ship with our doc. That way you’re not down here killing time, and nobody’s out there, playing cat and mouse with a psycho on his own territory.” 

“That’s agreeable,” said Tuaron. But even Rodney saw the hesitation from Ford on it and the scientist rolled his eyes.

“Captain,” Aiden began.

“Look, are you gonna trust the Colonel or not? What else does he have to do for _you_ to get the point?” Rodney cut in. He waved off toward the slowly lowering sun. “I promise you, _that_ guy out there is not handing out second chances, if that’s what you’re waiting on.”

“Rodney... jack down,” said the Colonel, quietly looking between the two. He met Aiden eye to eye then. “If you want to chase Kolya down, fine, send him this way. But I won’t ask you to. I’m in this to protect my people, Aiden. That includes you, for what it’s worth. I want your ship working. Hell, I want Tuaron and Caldwell to get along like drinking buddies. But none of that happens if you’re just here to cut and run. Some things are bigger than us, Lieutenant, and an alliance is only as strong as the folks who want to honor it.”

The lieutenant seemed to visibly settle then, meeting Sheppard's attention without fidgeting or looking away to the ground. He took a step away from his captain then, just to get the distance from the man's shadow.

"Understood, Colonel," he said finally. He hesitated before offering a sharp salute, right hand to brow. Teyla saw Colonel Sheppard return the gesture, something John had done as rarely as possible since she had known him. Both men lowered their hands then and some of the tension had burned off.

"I am sorry, sir," Aiden said. The Colonel nodded, squared his shoulders under the heavy vest, and accepted it.

"Me too, Lieutenant," he replied. He took a steeling breath and waved a hand to point up at the sky. "Now I'd appreciate it if you'd get the hell home so that's one less thing on my conscience."

Ford frowned at the honest request but didn't argue. He looked to Captain Tuaron for orders and the man nodded. 

"Send Leuca down. You have the ship," Tuaron told him. "She and I will meet with their doctor."

Hardly a minute later, Aiden was gone and Sheppard was on the radio again, this time with Elizabeth, requesting Carson reschedule his afternoon appointments for a diplomatic accord onboard the Daedalus. It wasn't entirely unplanned for and no one questioned it. Teyla had relaxed her attention on the Colonel by then, listened for orders, and watched the surrounding area for threats. 

Rodney sat on the steps around the DHD, in the shade, and the kind of nervous where he got irritated. Teyla noticed, too, that he looked pale.

"Rodney? Are you alright?" she asked. Rodney huffed out a dry, unamused laugh.

"Great. I apparently have a pavlovian programmed response to the psycho’s name. I feel the need to get sick whenever he's around. _Somewhere_ ," the scientist grumbled.

"Tell me about it," replied John. He nudged at Rodney's boot with his before returning his attention to his radio on a call to the Daedalus to brief Caldwell on the newest plan. He glanced at Ronon while he waited for a response from the ship.

"Find us a place to set up camp, ideally where we can see before we're seen," he requested. It was met with a nod and Ronon dropped into scout-mode, taking off for a copse of trees some fifty yards away. By then, John had Colonel Caldwell on the radio and was distracted by the demands of his city over the concerns stirred up by the isolated planet.

A few minutes later, Carson walked through the open stargate, one of his off-world bags over his shoulder. He saw Teyla, Sheppard, and McKay quickly, and his usual good humor traded for open concern.

"Alright, there, Rodney?" he asked. Rodney scowled at the sky.

"Why is everyone always asking me that? I'm fine. I'm sitting in the shade. On a dead planet. Waiting for a psycho to show up. Why wouldn't I be fine?"

The rhetorical question earned an eye-roll but that was all. Carson looked to John by then, offered a nod. "Colonel."

"Doc, I'd like you to meet our new friend Captain Tuaron. Let's see if we can get the Travelers set up to take care of their ship, huh?" said John. And so it went, with the three men chatting despite Sheppard's distracted state, until Tuaron's doctor showed up the same way Ford had disappeared.

Leuca marched up to her captain, irritation evident on her face. "I left my infirmary. This had better be worth it," she announced. She spotted John then and squinted at him. "You're looking better."

John smiled back at her from under his sunglasses. "Hi again, doc. I'd like you to meet _my_ doc."

And the introductions went around again. Carson seemed to soften Leuca's tone. She accepted their welcome to the Daedalus, but held the trip off another minute. She caught John's arm, without asking or really giving warning, and it was enough to startle Teyla. John, though, tolerated it, curiously. The doctor turned his palm up and pulled aside the band on the Colonel's wrist, checking his pulse or his skin or something, and John allowed it. The woman tsked at him and shook her head before letting him go.

" _Sir_. Damn it. I _knew_ it," she said, equal parts complaint as passing judgement that John had obviously earned. Leuca dug around in the hodgepodge of a bag she carried until she produced a glass jar of some sort with a large cork stopper and plopped it in the Colonel's hand. "Had a feeling that would be necessary."

John smiled broadly and accepted the gift. "Glad I didn't disappoint then."

Leuca hummed at that and looked to Carson. "He's your responsibility?" she asked. Carson was taken aback.

"Well. After a fashion, I suppose-"

"Good, then there's something _else_ we'll be discussing," she said. John's good humor faded but he just stepped back, hands up to stay out of it. Rodney grabbed the jar out of his hand and broke into the seal to sniff at the contents while Sheppard was distracted radioing the ship in orbit to collect their guests aboard.

When they were gone, the Colonel dropped down onto the step to sit with Rodney and took the jar back. Teyla could smell the cream inside from where she stood.

"What's that stuff?" Rodney asked. John shrugged as he shoved his wristband out of the way and dolloped some of the jar's contents on his wrist and up under his shirt sleeve.

"Damned if I know, but it works better than anything else in two galaxies," he replied. Rodney looked skeptical. So John wiped a white streak of gel down his nose. 

Teyla smiled and turned away to look for Ronon. Their runner-scout had disappeared in search of something, but he had left his pack near the trees. She spotted him a moment later, jumping down from a tree, not far from the place he had claimed, and collecting an arm full of branches and other things. Sheppard had said a place to camp, and Ronon took it as intended, apparently. From the looks of it, he was building a hunter's blind. That would definitely meet the Colonel's request. And that was probably why John had asked him to handle it.

* * *

Rodney was pretty sure he couldn't feel his nose where John had rubbed that weird cream on it. Not that it was dangerous, it hadn't sunk into his sinuses or his eyes, nothing was attacking his brain. But it felt numb and very weird.

"I think this might be an allergic reaction," he concluded. John looked away from the fire and frowned at him. 

"Are you breathing okay? We can send you up to Carson," he said. John rubbed at his arms over his jacket, apparently just fine with the effect from the cream he had rubbed on his own wrists. Rodney considered him before shaking his head. 

"I'm breathing fine. I just think it might be allergies," he said. "I already said I'm not going anywhere until you do."

"You will if you go into shock," John promised. "So let's go with the theory that there's no citrus in it."

Rodney didn't feel like pointing out the long list of things he was allergic to, of which the citrus family occupied only a percentage. The sun was nearly set, the planet was already cold, and after sitting with it for an hour, he stewed on the thought that waiting around for a psychopath to jump them in the dark was the worst idea possible. And Rodney had relatively recently set a nuclear reactor to a slow meltdown while he was trapped underground with it, so he had a firm grasp on the definition of Bad Ideas.

The anxiety and nerves were getting to him, so Rodney pushed his pack aside and started to crawl to his feet from under their blind, using John's knee to pull himself up. 

John was confused but tried to help. "What-"

"Where are you going?" Ronon wanted to know.

"The little scientists' room, before the sun goes down and I lose the chance," replied Rodney. "I don't want to squat on an alien porcupine again."

The reminder of Rodney's previous misfortunes distracted Ronon with a smug laugh and he didn't insist on going along to supervise. John, however, caught his leg to keep him there. Rodney looked down at him to see the Colonel triggering the earwig radio. 

"Daedalus, can we get a lifesigns status on the surface?" he asked on an open channel. "Any change on the locations?"

There was a pause and then a moment later another voice came over their earpieces. "Still five signatures. No apparent changes."

Their previous check-ins had been with a female comms officer, but this one was a new voice. John frowned but accepted the report and let go of Rodney's leg. He nodded and stayed out of the way as Rodney moved around him to leave. The caution was appreciated and made Rodney feel much better about leaving the team's sight, even briefly. John still watched him close but stayed where he was, arms over his knees, hands flexed to collect the warmth from the fire. There were three other blinds within view of the stargate, each with their own small bonfire to keep going. With the’ gate open, lighting up the area, the team just had to obscure their numbers, not try to hide. 

Not that it made any sense to Rodney; they could just have the Daedalus drop a few drones on the planet's one humanoid life sign and be done with it, there was no point in waiting around for the guy to show up at the 'gate. It wasn't like John wanted to talk to the psycho, right? Rodney didn't exactly know what John wanted, really; he was afraid to ask. He had figured out that as long as nobody said the psycho's name, he could keep his lunch, so Rodney wasn't pushing the issue. They had Ronon and Teyla with them, and the Daedalus somewhere in orbit, and everything would be fine. Sheppard just had to burn some demons and Rodney would back him on it.

To be on the safe side, Rodney headed off behind the active stargate, the opposite direction of where the planet's extra life sign had been found. He was still within a hundred yards of his team, he had full view of the valley around them, and he had privacy enough to take care of business. Not sure how long the wormhole had been open this time, Rodney stayed well back from the stargate's negative splash zone and picked a bunch of trees for added cover. He paid particular attention to the ground, because there was no telling what kind of fauna or flora could reach up and bite him on the ass if he didn't.

That, of course, was the mistake.

Rodney got too close to a tree, some kind of evergreen-trunked maple-thing, and was unexpectedly punched in the nose with something cold and metal, completely unawares of the extra shadow alongside the trunk. The impact stung his face, definitely rang his bell, and he knew it was going to hurt. Strangely, though, he felt the blood climbing down his chin before he could feel the damage on his nose. Whatever that stuff was from the Travelers' lady-doctor worked _great_. 

That left Rodney holding his hands gingerly over his nose as someone shoved him back with a handful of his jacket collar. He found himself eye to eye with a very rough-looking Acastus Kolya, but thankfully the afternoon's nausea had disappeared, because Rodney didn't want to risk puking when he couldn't feel his face through the puffy pain from whatever had hit him.

"Ohfhip!" Rodney managed. The metal presented itself then, one of the Travelers' fancy guns pressed up against Rodney's forehead. This one, unlike the last one Rodney had seen in Kolya's hands, had the power cell. This one didn't need fixed. The power-indicator lit up bright red and seemed to be working just fine. Beyond it, Kolya leaned a shoulder against the shaggy tree trunk and smiled at him.

"Hello again, Dr. McKay. How fortunate to find you here on my little exiled island," said Kolya.

"Not the word I would use," Rodney replied, voice muffled by his hands.

"I didn't say for who," Kolya pointed out. The Genii commander had lost a lot of weight and his jacket was ragged on him. He also hadn't shaved in a few weeks, nor brought a hairbrush with him for his exile. Rodney was a little glad he had been hit so hard in the face because the other man had blood and stains all over the coat and probably smelled like days-old roadkill. Kolya looked around the open field of rock and brown mosses and very little cover, or at least what they could see of it around the active event horizon. He tapped the weapon against Rodney's forehead. "How many men are here?"

"Ow!" Rodney said, rather than answer. Most of his face hurt, except part of his nose, and it was surprisingly distracting. As was Kolya stepping out to grab him by the jacket again. Rodney ducked away just to get pulled back. It was slowly getting darker around them, complicating his options further. 

"Fine! My team. And a _platoon_ waiting on the other side of the 'gate," Rodney said.

"Yes, I noticed you got that working," replied Kolya.

"It's not working. It's just receiving. You can't dial out," Rodney informed him. "We've got a ship in orbit."

"But you can fix it," said Kolya. Rodney balked at the man's orders.

"Not in the dark with a broken nose!"

"I'm sure you'll survive a bloody nose, McKay," replied the Genii. He noticed the radio over Rodney's ear and used the gun to turn his head and take it. Then he tapped the muzzle of the magnum on McKay's cheek again to push him away. "Now then. Let's go find Sheppard."

Rodney's instinct was to argue with that, annoyed that Kolya and everyone else knew to go after John to get something from him. It was always going to work, it was just annoying that it was apparently obvious. This time, though, the nausea did come back and Rodney had to stop and crouch and try not to throw up on Kolya's boots. The commander just caught him by the back of the jacket and hauled him up to make him move.

"How's your whipping boy doing, hmm? Did that shoulder ever heal?" the Genii taunted as they walked. He kept himself angled behind Rodney, a fist in his jacket collar and the gun at his neck. After two months, stranded, the man didn't seem overly concerned with keeping Rodney and his genius brain safe from harm long enough to fix the stargate.

"No, it didn't," Rodney said, rather than try to ignore it and chance Kolya carrying on about John. He didn't press the issue and tried not to risk the gun getting jammed any closer to his spine. He tripped over rocks and kicked at them, sending them clattering and spinning to make noise without getting himself killed. The dusk had fully settled and everything around them glowed an eerie purple. The fires all burned outside their walls of branches and vines, all of them empty except the one that Rodney had mistakenly left a few minutes earlier. John still sat as Rodney had left him, arms crossed on raised knees. His jacket was off, draped over his hands, and he seemed to be watching the fire. But Ronon and Teyla were gone. 

"Colonel," Rodney said, loud enough to be heard this time. John looked up just as Kolya thwapped the magnum along the side of Rodney's head. 

"I know you remember the rules," said Kolya to Rodney. He tugged him back a step as a more effective shield. "And besides, what kind of military would keep an officer with a ruined shoulder? He can't fight."

It was loud enough for John to hear the voice, and he certainly recognized it, but he didn't move to stand. He seemed frozen where he was, staring at Rodney over the fire. 

"McKay... You okay?" Sheppard asked, careful.

"I think he broke my nose," Rodney complained, trying to shrug out of Kolya's hold to protect his nose again. There was a flash of a change in John's expression but it was too quick for Rodney to fully process. His friend just stayed rooted to the ground like a rock. Rodney stepped up to the fire, far enough to stay away from it, but close enough to keep the light from the flames from hiding Kolya. They had the blue light from the stargate at their backs flooding the clearing around them. John looked them over, whatever plans he may have had an hour earlier apparently gone.

"Get up, Sheppard," ordered Kolya, pulling Rodney back to make a better target. "You can hold the torch while Dr. McKay fixes the stargate."

"I can't fix _anything_ while the wormhole is active," Rodney argued. Kolya slung an arm around his neck and squeezed just enough to make him reconsider arguing.

"Ronon..." said John. As a distraction, it worked, and Kolya looked around, his grip on Rodney getting tighter. Ronon stepped out from behind a bushy sort of tree no more than fifteen feet away, his weapon lit up on red and aimed at them. Teyla stepped out with him and moved a few feet past him, off to his right, even further from John inside the blind. It split the Genii's attention across three points and seemed to cause the psychopathic commander some concern. Kolya chanced a look at Sheppard, still sitting behind the fire, arms on his knees. He apparently decided John was harmless and Ronon was the threat because he turned to force Rodney to move and deter the man with the gun from taking any shots.

In that instant, there was movement in Rodney's peripheral vision. A shot was fired, not from the lit up magnum or from Teyla's P90. There was a little less pressure at his neck then and Rodney dodged the wavering weapon at his head, hurried to hit the ground as the P90 went off. He looked to John and saw the man had his handgun still up and aimed even as a shot from Ronon knocked Kolya back. John got to his feet and kept the gun trained on the Genii as Rodney kicked rocks back at him in his hurry to get away. Ronon stepped around him and Teyla moved to help him up. By the time Rodney was back on his feet, Ronon stood over Kolya and had removed the Travelers' weapon from the body. 

John had moved around the fire to get away from the glare, but he kept his distance, still alert. Ronon kicked at the body, like he was testing for a response. He glanced up at John only briefly.

"The headshot was risky," he observed. John grimaced at the point.

"I was _aiming_ for the bastard's shoulder," he said. Rodney tried very hard not to think about that and what it meant for how close he had come to friendly fire. He probably knew better than the other two how badly Sheppard's injuries had hit his ability to shoot; but he knew, too, that John had been working on it. Thank anything holy for that.

"Look, dead is dead, grade the final review later," he said quickly. "Is the psycho gone now or not?"

"Near enough," replied Ronon. The body at his feet coughed, probably just catching up to the P90's multiple shots in his chest. It was one of those creepy things bodies do when they die, something Rodney realized he had seen far too many times over the last few years if he could recognize it by sound. All the same, John reacted, and pulled the trigger on his weapon a few more times. Ronon jumped back to stay out of the way, but he needn't have bothered; John hit exactly what he was aiming for that time. Kolya's face was a bloody mess and there was no way the man had survived even the first shot. Rodney wiped self-consciously at the blood drying in dirt-smeared tracks on his own face.

"Rodney needs Carson. Everyone else okay?" John asked, distracted. Ronon looked to Rodney and Teyla before nodding.

"We're good."

"Then let's get the fuck outta here," replied John. He was on the radio and paging Dr. Beckett even as he moved to collect his abandoned jacket and pack. Teyla beat him to Rodney's so he wouldn't try to pick up them both and shoulder fifty-pounds of gear. John was very mechanical about it and Teyla and Ronon both gave him his space as they walked out to the DHD. 

Rodney, however, caught his hand in an effort to get him present again. John looked over at him for it, nodded as though to say he was still in there. He was just... processing. Like when he was stuck on the pain after a brief, early release from the infirmary and had to try to make sense of everything in Rodney's Genii lab. He looked angry and lost.

Taking a chance, Rodney tugged on the hand he had claimed until he could coax John into a hug. The man folded up around him with just the slightest invitation and he held on. Rodney's face still hurt, but John had a magic jar of cream in his bag that could fix that later, so he just stood quiet and listened to John breathe until the team was pulled up to the Daedalus infirmary. 

* * *


	24. Chapter 24

The Daedalus infirmary was already a busy place. Apparently Captain Tuaron and Colonel Caldwell did get along alright, which Rodney personally found surprising just because Caldwell wasn't one of his favorite people, and so the first hour of the Travelers' visit had been spent on a diplomatic tour. They had only just started to discuss the Travelers genetic therapy options when AR-1 showed up and Rodney was set up to be scanned six ways from sunday.

Showing off and size comparisons is what it really was and Rodney knew it but he didn't say anything about that as he sat in the infirmary being argued over by Leuca and Carson both. It wasn't even a proper argument, it was simply knowledge comparisons, the two doctors trading care plans for Carson's patient, Carson showing Leuca how to use some of the equipment she might have access to on her own ship, and the two settling on a winner like it was a democratic process. Rodney wanted to injure Carson for inviting the help. 

John just stood beside the patient bed, hip up against Rodney's knee as he sat on the edge, and hand behind his back to fold their fingers together. He could have sat on the bed and been out of the way and more comfortable, but Rodney noticed the Colonel kept himself between Rodney and the doctors unless they needed to have hands on him to clean him up. So far, though, that had been left mostly to the nurses, just after the scans had been done, and John didn't watch them quite so close. Rodney puzzled on it, distracted, because Leuca and Carson were once again not talking about him, and it confused Rodney. He knew John and Carson were friends, and John did seem to like this Leuca person. But he was definitely paranoid about the pair of them tending to Rodney.

Carson started explaining another element of the use of the computers' interface with some bit of Ancient medical tech and John gave a polite cough fully loud enough to pull the doctors' attention back.

"Carson? What about Rodney?" he asked with far more patience than Rodney would have tried for. He sat and scowled and held his nose with the hand that wasn't tangled with John's.

"Oh! It's not broken, Rodney. You'll be fine," said Carson, fully chagrined. "Just wait for the pills to kick in."

Leuca pointed to John. "You, sir. I gave you the means. You can share. Take care of your man."

"Yes ma'am," replied John, as surprised by the order as Carson was. Rodney blinked between the two.

"But I won't be able to feel my face," he said. Leuca raised an eyebrow at him.

"Can you feel it _now_?" she asked. Rodney had to pause to take internal inventory.

"Well... Maybe a _little_ doesn't hurt..."

John had the audacity to smirk at him before digging into his pack for the jar he had been given a couple of hours earlier. Then he was shooing Rodney's hands away from his face with a threatening glob of white goop on his fingers.

"You heard the doc. Let me take care of you," he said, voice pitched quiet. Rodney looked over at him, only eighty percent certain he felt the frown he was trying to aim at him.

"That's not how this works," he complained. John paused, hesitating from apparent confusion.

"Since when?"

"Since, I don't know, ever?" Rodney replied, adding a very extra quiet " _Colonel_ ," for emphasis.

"Resignation submitted and accepted. Bite me," John replied, just before diving in with the very herbally endowed cream. But Rodney saw the flash of the panicked expression before John swallowed it down, buried it under determination, and that same fake-calm he had used when Leuca had blustered into his space earlier. All the same, he was very careful as he touched the cream onto Rodney's skin, gentle strokes that he made sure to keep away from his eyes. The excess went on his own wrists as he let the stuff settle on Rodney's face. He stayed where he was, standing at Rodney's knees the whole time, watching him as Rodney poked experimentally at the mess.

"See? It's better, right?" he asked. Rodney reluctantly nodded. John reached up again and thumbed some of the cream off his cheek to rub it in a little better, but already Rodney could hardly feel it beyond the numbed sensation. He met the green eyed stare and held there, relaxing as the pain disappeared and he felt normal. John smiled at him. Rodney wanted suddenly very badly to go home and get John away from the trappings and officers of the US military. John leaned his hip into Rodney's knee as he turned to look back at where Carson and Leuca were boring Tuaron with one of the scanners.

"Hey doc?" he called over to them.

"Yes, John?" Carson asked, still distracted, even as Leuca replied with a " _What_?"

"Can we get the recipe on that jar of stuff?" John asked. Carson suddenly seemed very conspiratorial as Leuca rolled her eyes at him. 

"You are not half as smart as I pegged you for if you think the man doesn't already have it ferreted away in that tablet," she said with a very disappointed sigh. 

"I was just checking," John replied. He was used to being slighted by cranky doctors, however, and let the old woman's comment slide. "I hadn't heard Carson say anything about the gene therapy yet. Is that still on the meeting agenda or will this be a longer visit?"

" _Right_ , right..." And suddenly Carson remembered what he was supposed to be talking to their two Traveler guests about in the first place. Tuaron shot Sheppard a thankful smile before attempting to tune back in on the doctor's discussion. The three disappeared to one of the smaller office rooms where Carson had left his gear, one that didn't have diagnostic equipment for the pair to get distracted by. John turned back to Rodney then. 

"Well. If you don't need Carson after all. You can head back with Teyla and Ronon. I'll catch up when the Daedalus gets back to the city," he said. He looked tired suddenly. Rodney just shook his head.

"We'll stay with you," he replied. "Make sure you get home."

"I'll get home. Why wouldn't I? I'm not leaving the ship," said John.

"You resigned."

"To accept a commitment with the IOA on Atlantis. Caldwell's not going to kidnap me back to Earth on behalf of the Air Force, Rodney," said John, quietly teasing the concern. But Rodney still shook his head, crossed his arms to fully solidify his stance on the matter. And if he had to, he would enlist Teyla and Ronon for backup.

"That's fine," he replied. "Your team stays with you when you're away from the city."

"That's not how this works," John pointed out. 

"It is. Since now."

"I handled it with Caldwell yesterday. I'm not in trouble for it, I promise."

"Well, I didn't entertain the thought that you might have been until _now_. Thanks for that," replied Rodney. He wasn't backing down from the call. John rolled his eyes at him for it, which had, admittedly, been the goal. Rodney had figured some of John's faces out and had a fair enough grasp on how to get a few of the ones he wanted to show up.

"My point is, I don't need a protection detail. I'm fine," replied John. Rodney hesitated, lifted his chin as he stubborned his way through it.

"I didn't say a damn thing about a protective detail. I said you need your friends. And that's altogether different," he pointed out. John blinked at him, surprised, and Rodney wasn't sure what the face was then. He went on anyway. " _My_ point is that if you're retired now, I can stay with you if I want. And I do. So I will."

Whatever argument John had to that logic wasn't brought out. Rodney considered it a win because John stared at him, quite intent and frustrated and surprised and ultimately smiling for it. John raised his hands again and framed Rodney's face, very careful of the places with the cream soaked in, like he intended to kiss him, which Rodney thought entirely unfair because he couldn't feel the lower half of his face. But John lowered his head to instead kiss his forehead, then touch their foreheads together like had become his habit over the past few months. Rodney waved a hand vaguely between them at the head bump.

" _This_ isn't a Teyla thing," Rodney observed, amused. "This is just you. You just wanted the excuse."

John huffed, a little bit of a laugh and more surprised. "Yeah. Maybe."

John straightened up then, mask carefully back in place. "If you won't go home... Can you behave yourself as a diplomatic envoy, Dr. McKay? No offending the cranky doctor or her captain?"

"Of course. What's with you and cranky people, anyway?" Rodney replied, fully aware of his own status on that spectrum. John grinned at him.

"The rest of you make me look good," he replied easily. Rodney rolled his eyes and jumped down from the infirmary bed. John bussed another kiss to the side of his forehead as he stepped away. And for the next hour, the pair of them helped keep Carson on track trying to explain the genetic markers that would help make the Revenant more than just a drifting ship with cloaking and hyperdrive capacity. 

From what Rodney could piece together of Leuca’s medical technology familiarity and Tuaron’s few shared comments about the modifications they did to ships, the Traveler society technologies almost sounded comparable to those of Earth. They regularly hacked into the systems of found-ships and modified them to make them home, patched up the damage with no clue of the original designers’ specs, and rerouted or supplemented power sources from scrapped parts. They were either the luckiest sonsofbitches McKay had ever met, or they were populated by untrained geniuses, and either option was mildly terrifying. The notion of a fleet of half-powered, welded-together zombie ships coming to life as their Lantean parts suddenly found Lantean code to interact with was almost comical but also the stuff of Rodney’s nightmares. And he stood by as the Captain and Leuca agreed to try the gene therapy.

He kept his opinions to himself until their guests had left, then he told his friends mildly, "If this works, access to their fleet might have been worth letting Ford walk away."

John cast him a frown for it but didn't pursue the topic. He was distracted. "We need to go talk to Caldwell about getting that 'gate."

And just like that, Rodney was on a whole new track, chasing down the possibility of yet another stargate for their midway bridge. The Travelers didn't use the stargates, so stranding the planet with one less access point was no inconvenience to their new allies. The Genii stargate was stored without hassle, so another spare could only help Carter make their case to the SGC to fund the project. 

"Fine with me. But I don't think the stargate is what kept your team an extra two hours on the surface tracking life signs," Caldwell said when they found the Colonel. "I recognize we're in an odd limbo with the Lieutenant Colonel's resignation, but I would still like to know what to put in _my_ report." 

"Oh. Right," said Rodney. His enthusiasm for the stargate dropped significantly at the notion of going back to the surface and the dead body there.

"Your shirt is still bloody, Dr. McKay. And you aren't usually the bruised one," Caldwell added.

"Well, I don't exactly have a spare shirt with me," Rodney began, but he stopped because that wasn't the Colonel's point. "Right."

"Captain Tuaron chose that 'gate location for our meeting because he stranded Kolya there two months ago," John reported. Rodney looked over at him, seeing the formal grimace and the tense way he stood. "It wasn't safe terrain to go looking for him, so we set up where it was defensible and waited for him to come to us. That required time we hadn't planned on initially."

Caldwell had taken the report from Rodney two months earlier, and he was well aware of the name Kolya from reports of the Genii attack on Atlantis over a year before that. He seemed surprised to hear the name from Sheppard then and there, on the deck of the Daedalus. He looked between Sheppard and McKay and seemed to reassess the mess on Rodney's shirt.

"What happened to the Genii?" he asked.

"He attacked McKay and my team took him out," replied Sheppard.

"He's dead?" 

"Well, barring alien intervention, new lungs, a new face, and, I dunno, solid Kevlar brainpan, yeah, he's dead this time," replied John, tone flat.

"What about the remains?" Caldwell asked.

"They're still there," said John. "Thought about dropping them off on Chief Cowen's doorstep on the way home, but that seemed a bit like work. The planet can have him."

Caldwell nodded. "Genea isn't exactly on the way, either."

"Well, there it is then. I'm sure that rock's got, I dunno, rats or something that could use the meal," replied John.

"Okay, let's move on, shall we?" Rodney cut in, before John started further down descriptions of the normal natural decomposition cycles. "The stargate? Can we relocate it?"

"Talk to Hermiod. Get it set up to go," replied Caldwell. He frowned at Rodney. "And maybe get some ice on that bruise."

Rodney still couldn't feel the front of his face, which did make talking a questionable gamble, so he wasn't concerned about any ice packs. They left to get to ops and Hermiod and it was hard not to notice that John crowded his space, hand on his arm and everything.

"Sorry," John told him as they walked. He stayed quiet, but he was agitated. 

"Sorry? For what-" Rodney asked, trying to match his volume. John let go of his arm to motion at his own face.

"This. I should have gone with you. Shouldn't have trusted the report," he replied. "I was trying not to step on your toes again and I should have-"

Rodney pulled him to a stop in the hallway, hanging on to John by the elbow just to make sure he bothered to listen. 

"Just for the record, since it apparently wasn't clear, I prefer to find my own way to the little scientists' room, without a babysitter," Rodney pointed out. "You should not have gone with me. You should have done exactly what you _did_ do, so everyone's great."

"You shouldn't have gotten hurt," replied John, tense. "Maybe it's not my only job anymore, but it's still my job to keep you safe."

"From where I was standing, you did," Rodney insisted. "So did Teyla, so did Ronon. Look, John, I got a papercut last week. Did you stop that? No. Because you weren't there. Because you aren't my human shield, here. You sat at the table and offered to pour salt on the damn thing when I told you about it. _That's_ your job."

"Well, yeah, that's _part_ of it," John allowed. But he was listening, even if he was arguing. He was also mindful of the hall around them and the random passerby. "But it's still... Not something I'm okay with."

"Thanks for that, but you don't have to go there, damnit. The psycho's orders don't stand anymore," said Rodney. John rolled his eyes at him, frustrated.

"McKay. You realize that the only reason Kolya's orders worked at all in the first place was I already had that rule, right?" he said soberly. "What, two years now, I've had that rule. I told you. Or, I mean, I tried to."

The memory of John sitting on the floor of the gym a few days earlier came to mind then and Rodney was momentarily stuck on the quiet admission that Rodney could have whatever was left of the man's mess. There had been a dozen other small comments over the past few months, similar in theme, that had shown a clear priority, with the implications that it predated Kolya's intervention by months. As often as John brought up Atlantus, maybe longer. He had tried to tell Rodney, many times, and backed it up with different proofs along the way, that only seemed to register fully for the genius in that moment.

Rodney floundered. "Well. I mean. It was technically your job..."

John pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the intentionally obtuse comment. He shook his head, shoved hands in his pockets, and turned to start walking again. "Right. The job. Forget it then."

Rodney caught at his wrist and moved to keep up. "Hang on a sec. Let's... Let's go get Caldwell."

Confused, John slowed a step but didn't stop. "What for?"

"He counts as the captain, right?" Rodney replied. He was somewhere between distracted and determined. There was suddenly a very obvious trajectory in his mind that he wouldn't back down from. No matter how mildly insane it was going to sound. "International maritime law is the closest we have established on a ship. He can technically officiate... Things."

It took a moment for the words to process before John did slow to a full stop. He turned to raise an eyebrow at Rodney as he caught on. "Okay... But it'd require Elizabeth. _And_ she might kill us."

"I don't care." Rodney shook his head. He really, really wasn't at all concerned with Elizabeth or anyone else's opinions just then. John seemed to accept that he was serious then and focused in on Rodney fully, a hand waving between them.

"Back up a sec here. Really. Did you just ask me-"

"Well, I mean, not directly, it was more implied, but yes," he said. Nodding quickly, Rodney tried to hurry him through the details, hanging on to hope and a challenge. He looked over suddenly at him to confirm. "And you seemed to agree-"

John nodded, seeming much calmer than Rodney felt. "Not directly, but implied, yes."

That was a relief and Rodney relaxed, smiled at him for it. He thumbed back toward the command deck, trying to regain casual. "So... Caldwell?"

John considered it, took a breath as he looked up and down the hall. Then he shook his head and looked back to Rodney. "Still need Elizabeth's authority. Need witnesses. You go find Carson. I'll go get Teyla."

The mention of his friend surprised Rodney, especially after watching John guard-dog him an hour earlier. But if they were to call sides, as witnesses on behalf of the parties, Carson would have been Rodney's first choice. He nodded, but still asked, "What about Ronon?"

John shrugged, a smirk on his lips. "He'll be with Teyla. Two birds."

And just like that, they had a plan. Rodney stared at John, seeing the determined sort of happiness on his tired face. His messy face, smudged with dirt and ash from the misadventure on the planet, even faint trails of Rodney's blood from their hug. The man had washed his hands a few times, but not his face or his shirt. It settled in a little heavier then, what Rodney had so impulsively proposed, and it seemed all the more like the right course. He nodded then. 

"Right. Elizabeth's gonna kill us."

John grinned at him, rocked on his shoes, smug bastard that he was. "That's why you get _her_. I got the other two."

Rodney gaped at the sneaky move. "You chickenshi-"

"MENSA dropout, _not_ dumb," replied John. He pecked Rodney on the jaw, just in the safe, painless territory he knew wouldn't be numb from the magic herbal cream and then took off down the hall to look for Teyla and Ronon.

* * *

The fuzzy, sticky details pointed out that Caldwell wasn't a ship's captain, and even international maritime law still required the whole on-board weddings idea be held to the laws of the ship's home country. But. The Daedalus was as far into international territory as it was humanly possible to get, and Elizabeth was the legal representative for international Earth authority within the Pegasus galaxy. And with her sign off, it could happen. 

Did it require Colonel Caldwell's participation or even approval? No.

Did former Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard really want the man on board with the idea? Yes.

The resignation was officially accepted. He had been processed as a temporary disability discharge, thanks to Carson's and Heightmeyer's signatures on the right paperwork, when Caldwell left the first time. With his resignation and application for retirement only a year early, John's commitment to the Air Force was complete. And the trap he had been in had loosened up considerably. The Air Force had been his life for almost twenty years, but it would not have let him keep that life and any kind of life with Rodney after the last few months. 

If the Genii hadn't interfered, John could have spent years with things as they were, throwing himself into work, hanging on to his partnership with Rodney as friends, and shoving down jealousy as he limped the man through his various girlfriends. It would have sucked, but it was the course John had settled on, and he would have stuck to it. But that door was closed now and not an option. John couldn't do it. One way or another, he knew, he couldn't stomach it, and he refused to go back. And apparently so did Rodney.

But that was still John's life. And turning his back on it the last few months had not been easy. He didn't want to, not entirely. Accidentally-on-purpose drafting an Air Force officer into condoning his life choices, on the behalf of the military that _wouldn't,_ seemed like a passable alternative. The fact that it started because Dr. Rodney McKay, Genius etc, happened to not be on top of his maritime law statutes just made it more _fun_.

Accordingly, was Lt. Colonel John Sheppard on board with falling back on the old pirate code that let the captain marry off his men? Hell yeah.

It wasn't really a surprise when Rodney bowed out of contacting Elizabeth in favor of the actual job duties of setting up the theft of an unused stargate instead. But John still had Carson hunting him down to get answers afterwards, so apparently Rodney wasn't backing out of everything. Just the part where he had to request his boss leave the city via the stargate (which he was trying to figure out how to dismantle) and authorize the Air Force Colonel aboard the Daedalus to marry off her new Lieutenant Director. So John stole Rodney's tablet and sent her an email.

It didn't work.

The email turned into another email, and then a video call, which thankfully was routed through the network and John could take it on the stolen tablet. While hiding in an empty storage room. Thankfully Elizabeth took the call in her office. 

"John. What is so important that I'm supposed to leave-"

"You _can_ leave the city, Elizabeth. Lorne can handle it for an hour..." John cut in. "It won't even take that long. You would just have to get here before Rodney takes down the 'gate, that's the only... I dunno, rush about it. Then we all go back, everything's cool."

"You didn't answer my question," Elizabeth reminded him. This was the part John was still getting used to. Saying things out loud that were already at home in his head. He hemmed and hedged and finally managed it, though he was probably grimacing as he expected the woman's yelling reaction.

"Rodney's got it in his head he wants to get married and that's one of those things that can sorta be done by the ship's commander under the right authority and it's kinda _your_ authority..."

To John's relief, Elizabeth just stared at him, blinking, mouth open in perhaps more shock than he thought warranted.

"Teyla and everybody are fine with it," John added. 

"And Colonel Caldwell?" Elizabeth asked. John scrunched his nose at the point.

"Well, there's no point in asking him if you're not here, so..."

"So he doesn't know..."

"Yet. He doesn't know _yet_." That was an important clarification and John wanted to be sure it was made. Elizabeth crossed her arms at him.

"So your first official act as Atlantis' Lt. Director was to broker an agreement with the Travelers-" Elizabeth began, making John slightly nervous.

"Which Rodney said was completely worth it and the right course of action, based on his assessment of their technology," John reminded her quickly.

"And your _second_ will be to negotiate your way into a military-recognized marriage to the chief science officer," Elizabeth finished.

"He's not actually under my command... Everything is entirely above board here, I swear," John said, nodding. "It was entirely Rodney's idea. He's just currently trying to prep the stargate for removal, which is, you know, where our time crunch comes in."

Elizabeth's wry grin finally snuck out and she nodded. "Fine. Have him hold off for twenty minutes."

And that was how Sheppard's official second act as Lt. Director of Atlantis was to draft his new boss into acts of piracy. He was strangely okay with it, once the panic backed off. 

John went back to the infirmary to ditch his tac vest with his gear, in the stack of AR-1's gear piled in the corner of the small office that Carson had borrowed to work in while he waited to go back to the city. He tugged the skeleton key out of the hidden pocket and stuffed it in the inside pocket of his jacket, zipping it in place. The thing had been lucky since Rodney gave it to him, so John was keeping it on him. He just wasn't presenting himself to be married in a tac vest, so the logistics had to change.

He looked up to see Teyla and Ronon standing over him. 

"Well?" Teyla asked, brow raised.

"Elizabeth's on board," John said. He amended quickly, "Well, not yet, _actually_ , but she said in twenty minutes."

"Good," Teyla replied, smiling. 

"Go clean up," ordered Ronon. Because apparently he was the fashion-police and John no longer matched the look now that he had traded a tac vest for a leather jacket with patches on the shoulders. John scrunched his nose at the order but complied. Carson quietly abandoned his desk as John's team bossed him around.

It didn't seem like twenty minutes before Elizabeth was requesting to be brought aboard from the planet surface. John showed up in ops with Teyla and Ronon in time to see the Director show up. She shoved a bag at Rodney, who had Carson of all people already at his shoulder, and waved them off with a "Go."

It was some kind of coordinated strike because Rodney was then being pulled from the room, confused and irritated and loud about it. "I _am_ working-"

"Aye, and Hermiod is fully capable of handling the ship from here on," Carson chimed in. The alien probably had something to do with the doors closing just short of Rodney's elbow as he was pulled away from the room. Elizabeth looked from the door to Hermiod with a quiet "Thank you," and was grumbled at for the effort. John remembered he was wigged out by the little naked gray dude and turned to wave the new boss out of ops.

"You're here just in time to watch me make an idiot out of myself," John said. "Great timing."

"Oh? Those are certainly favorite moments. What's on the playbill?" replied Elizabeth, because everybody's got jokes and John was apparently bound and determined to walk into as many of them as possible that afternoon.

"Chat with Caldwell," said John, quiet. Elizabeth shook her head and waved him off.

"He already knows. He agreed to officiate," the Director said. John tripped over his boots and just barely caught himself.

"What?"

"Well, as you said, such a project as this would have to be done under my authority as the international representative of Atlantis. And that requires certain levels of, let's say _formalities_. There are specific rules to keep idiots in love on ships from pestering captains with marriage requests, all day, every day of the cruise," Elizabeth said. "That especially includes former Lt. Colonels sneaking under loopholes."

"This was Rodney's idea," John pointed out as a claim to innocence in the face of her charges. Elizabeth nodded.

"And I'm sure it's a great inconvenience for your life plans," she replied.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly go _that_ far," said John. He played it off because it was easier than dealing with the nerves. _Blame it on Rodney and go with it_ was his usual MO, John knew what to do with that because it would ultimately work out in his favor that way. But this one was a little more long-term than their usual seat-of-the-pants plans. There were consequences. But it seemed like his new boss had cleaned some of it up for him already. John patted at his jacket self-consciously, checking for the key again.

They ended up at a viewing deck, per the instructions of Colonel Caldwell. He would humor the request from Elizabeth Weir, but he wouldn't be tolerating random requests for deck marriages from snoopy staff and military crew on a mixed ship, so they were to keep it quiet. John stalled, hanging back to wave his friends in ahead of himself, steeling up with a show of force before brazenly walking in to implicitly confess to half a dozen violations of code of conduct to a superior. Former superior. Whatever. He was quite aware that Caldwell had gone after his job on Atlantis, and might still end up with it if Weir couldn't argue Lorne into the position as she had for John. If there was anything Sheppard knew in that moment, it was that he sure knew how to make friends.

All the same, he was smiling when he saw Rodney and Carson on the approach. He was still colorful, but Carson had cleaned him up no different than Teyla and Ronon had worked on John. The bag from Elizabeth had been a new shirt and jacket, blood-and-mud free and looking sharp. John stayed back at the door to wait. Carson went on into the room with the windows as John tugged Rodney aside in the hall. 

"You really did it?" Rodney whispered at him as he caught up, latched on to his arm. John stared back at him, eyes wide.

"Was I not _supposed_ to?!"

Rodney tugged on his arm insistently. "Yes! I just... Didn't know if you would."

"Well, don't let anybody look at the details too close, but we did it. Lizabeth kinda filled those in," said John, looking for calm again. "In twenty minutes, give or take."

"But it's-"

"Yeah."

Rodney's blue eyes were intent on John and bright. He was smiling but in the same bewildered sort of way John felt. "This isn't how I ever thought it would go."

"I guess we're good at that."

They stood there a moment, hanging on to each other at the elbows and waiting, for what John didn't know, but he knew he was waiting. Waiting for Rodney to blink first, decide he cheated at setting up a legal marriage on a ship in another galaxy, blame him for the striped bruise across his face, or something, anything. And he didn't. 

On the heels of a very bad day, in the space of a half an hour, with the help of basically their entire team, John and Rodney had made up their minds to do something, hadn't asked anybody's permission or opinions except their own, and now they stared down the barrel of their own wedding. As much as it was. 

"We're doing this?" John asked, offering one last shot to knock him down. Rodney let go of his elbow to slide a hand down to catch his fingers.

"This, yes, we... We are, yes," Rodney replied. "You're... Probably crazy for doing this. But we're doing this."

Not sure how to make words make sense just then, John shrugged and lifted his hand to kiss Rodney's. He was betting the man's face was still numb so at least the effort would be noticed. Rodney swore under his breath and pulled his hand free to catch at John's jacket instead. Whether he could feel his face or not, Rodney could kiss just fine, and the pair wasted more time in the hall to enjoy it. 

The door opened again a few feet away and reality was back. As was Teyla Emmagen, standing just in the hall enough to be quite easily seen. 

"John! Rodney!" she said, a loud whisper. "Is now really the _best_ time?"

The answer was obvious, but John still snickered behind Rodney. It earned him a too-amused-to-be-sincere judgment-glare from Teyla as she waved for them to get their act together. Rodney caught at John's jacket again, this time to steer him out into the viewing deck in the other room. They walked through the doorway just behind Teyla, seeing their other friends further down the narrow, window-lined room, waiting. Mostly patient, mostly amused faces stared back at them, people who knew them and didn't seem overly surprised by the delay. The raised eyebrow from Caldwell indicated maybe some annoyance at it, but certainly no surprise.

Beyond them, out the thick observation windows, was the planet. It glowed white and blue, with mostly barren terrain like what they had experienced of it, with sparse field grass, and white rock and pale sand that turned out to be quite reflective. It was bright and reflected light into the room around them better than the usual glow of the ship's built in lighting.

"Sorry, we had to get a few things sorted out," John drawled, trying to hide behind the charm before Rodney said something damningly truthful.

"Uh huh," said Caldwell. There was a slight grin on his face as he shook his head. Maybe John didn't have the approval of Air Force policy but he at least had the tolerance of a Colonel the Brass seemed to like.

A chirp in their ears distracted the room. "Colonel Caldwell, Dr. McKay, the stargate is safely onboard and taking up a considerable amount of space in the 302 bay," said Hermiod over their radios. "All in one piece and should be operational upon arrival, providing it is reinstalled correctly."

Rodney's triumph at the successful 'gate theft was quickly dampened by the backhanded insult from his favorite gray alien and he visibly deflated. Trying to be helpful, John had to bite back a smug grin and just patted him on the back. 

"So... Where were we?" he asked, rocking nervously on his shoes. Rodney nodded and waved his hand to roll things along.

"Yes. Somebody, marry us already, please."

He managed to say it with such residual annoyance from Hermiod's burn that his friends slowly cracked up into laughter, with just Elizabeth and Caldwell managing mostly stiff-lipped sobriety. John clapped a hand on his shoulder and leaned into Rodney in as much of a hug as he dared. Rodney slipped a hand around his side and smiled at him from up close, hanging onto his jacket in return. 

"Easy there, buddy, don't get so excited," John taunted. Rodney's lips twisted up on one side and he tugged him closer to hide behind briefly as he spoke at John's ear. 

"Just to be clear, we're taking a _nap_ when we get home. No jello shots at this wedding," he warned, and John buried his face in Rodney's shoulder to stifle laughter.

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~.~ The End ~.~
> 
> :)


End file.
